The best way to categorise both the work of Annie Montgomerie and the buzz which surrounds it is “unique”. Each painstakingly rendered sculpture is different to those that preceded it, owing not only to the one off nature of the vintage materials and trinkets that adorn them, but to the unique personality of each dirty-kneed, filthy-sleeved, anthropomorphic animal-child she brings into the world.
The U.K. based artist’s work has amassed an enormous following of devoted fans world-wide who are drawn in by emotive and nostalgic elements of her works, and let’s not lie, by just how damn cute they are. Her passionate collectors maintain an energy rivalling that of a pop culture fandom, snapping up every available artwork in the blink of an eye and always wanting more.
Having recently released her first book documenting her work and about to open a show at Beinart Gallery, we caught up with Annie to find out a bit more about the woman behind the sculptures and how her widely admired artworks came into being.
“When I first started my work some people would say “Oh, that’s scary and freaky, human bodies with animal heads.” But to me it seemed magical” – Annie Montgomerie
Pieces from Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Railing Latchers, at Beinart Gallery in 2021
Indigo Rawson-Smith: Your sculptures are steeped in childhood nostalgia and elements of school days from an era long past. You personally attended a convent school which you’ve said had quite an impact on you. What kind of memories do you have of your time there? How do you think those times influence and show up in your work?
Annie Montgomerie: Yes, I want my work to feel nostalgic, maybe not so much in a rose tinted way but a reflection of all the emotions you might feel as a child.
I went to a convent school after a series of unfortunate events in state school. I was bullied for being small but the final straw was when I was smacked by a teacher for poking my tongue out at one of the bullies in class.
Convent school was very strict religiously but I was sort of happier there. I was a bit of a rebel though and ended up in Mother Superior’s office a couple of times, usually over wearing makeup or writing band names on my school bag, hardly a crime but at the time it seemed very serious.
Before I hit my teens I did feel inadequate and lost most of the time and this is what I tap into with my anthropomorphic figures.
Dordla - Textiles and mixed media for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Railing Latchers, at Beinart Gallery in 2021.
IRS: There’s a sense of idyllic, story book “Britishness”, the simple-ness and whimsy of a different era, which permeates your work, akin to the character of childhood favourites such as Peter Rabbit, The Wind in the Willows and Alice in Wonderland, which have endured for generations after generation. Do you identify with this at all? And do you think that the lasting and nostalgic appeal of these themes is part of the reason why so many people worldwide have become so attached to your work?
AM: When I was little my favourite books were Dick Bruna (author of the Miffy series) books, I loved the simple bold colours and the cute characters. My favourite tv shows were The Magic Roundabout, Mr Men, Pipkins, Bagpuss and The Clangers. It’s funny that when I first started my work some people would say “Oh, that’s scary and freaky, human bodies with animal heads”, but to me it seemed magical and quite natural as all the most popular stories and programs for children in my younger years were all anthropomorphic animals including Beatrix Potter stories, 'Rupert The Bear' and so on.
When I post pictures of my latest work on social media I get lots of comments like “ that reminds me of a time when”. Often it’s the clothes my pieces wear that take people back, it’s definitely something I feel when I see certain fabrics or wool clothes, jewellery or buttons and so on. That’s why I spend hours trawling flea markets and car boot sales to find just the right media for my work.
Beatty in Her Birthday Best - Textiles, vintage clothes, epoxy clay, plastic, wool, vintage and other findings for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Fitting In, at Beinart Gallery in 2022.
IRS: You cite some very interesting influences; from the folksy puppets of Paul Klee and dolls of Julie Arkell, to vintage and primitive dolls, as well as Walter Potter’s curious Victorian taxidermy scenes. Can you tell us a bit about what draws you to these things and how their influence manifests in your art?
AM: Yes, I love the puppets of Paul Klee as much as his paintings if not more. It’s fascinating to me how he would find discarded things around the house to make these beautiful, grungy, and also quite creepy characters to entertain his son. He literally used anything he could get his hands on: bristles from brushes, nutshells, bottle tops and bones. I try to use unusual findings for my work, sometimes stitching on to my figures, anything I can get a needle through I will try and sew together or stitch on a character.
When I first saw Julie Arkell’s work it made me so inspired, I loved the peculiar little beings she made with clumpy feet, patchy clothes and knitted hats often with words stitched on to their dresses. I suppose it’s artists like these that seem to escape from life and create their own little worlds that I want to subscribe to in my own work.
I remember the first work I saw of Walter Potter’s was the kitten tea party. I was so impressed by all the attention to their little outfits and all the crockery in miniature form on the table. It was love at first sight and inspired me so much.
Furn - Textiles and mixed media for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Railing Latchers, at Beinart Gallery in 2021.
IRS: You originally studied stone carving before moving on to art and design, and you say that this time studying gave you the foundations that you built on to create your sculptures, but that a lot of the techniques you use were self taught. Looking back through your work it looks like you’ve used a range of different techniques and approaches over time before getting to where you are now. Could you give some insight into this learning process and the evolution of your work?
AM: Studying stone carving gave me the skills for making 3D objects, and Art and Design showed me the importance of transporting what’s in your head into your art. When I first started I used to sew all my pieces but wanted them to be more detailed so I experimented with using thin fabric like papier-mâché over a sculpture. My techniques are all part experimental, part happy accidents. I just bash away at ideas until I find something that works. I realised that shredding silk or other thin fabric could be applied to look more realistic than faux fur, it’s quite time consuming and laborious but I apply the “fur” in thin strips from the base up to the nose. Obviously time and practice has made my pieces evolve, when I sculpt a piece it does get easier and hopefully better every time. There are still some animals that I just can’t seem to get the hang of and end up squishing it up.
Annie Montgomerie's workspace.
IRS: Could you take us through the process of creating one of your sculptures?
AM: I start by sculpting a piece, I then cut muslin up into pieces and layer it on with a mix of fabric and pva glue, usually around 4 to 5 layers and leave it to dry completely. I cut the piece open and hollow the clay out, put the head back together and apply the fur. I paint and stain the features and then attach the body, I usually make the arms and hands/paws/hooves and attach them at the same time. I then get out my huge bags of fabric and wool treasures to find and make the outfits.
Bliddy Kiddy Girly - Textiles and mixed media for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Railing Latchers, at Beinart Gallery in 2021.
IRS: I know that a lot of the outfits and embellishments for your figures are old/vintage pieces you’ve foraged from charity and second hand shops. To what extent are the characters inspired by the pieces you dress them in and vice versa?
AM: Funny question to answer, what came first: the chicken or the egg? The answer is either, sometimes I see something at a flea market etc and think of a character wearing or holding that thing, other times I make a character and then go rummaging in my stash for something suitable. All my work has a vintage feel about it, and it just goes hand in hand with my favourite pastime of vintage shopping.
Worter - Textiles, epoxy clay, plastic, wool, vintage and other findings for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Fitting In, at Beinart Gallery in 2022.
IRS: Each of your sculptures seems to have its own personality, and there is a tender vulnerability to these childish little beings that many people are drawn to. As an artist you put so much time into making these figures which seem so sentimental, is it often a struggle to let them go?
AM: I do struggle to let some of them go, I have them in my house on display for a month or so until I’ve created a collection. The places where they sit look empty when they go but I soon create another to sit in that place.
Mord - Textiles and mixed media for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Railing Latchers, at Beinart Gallery in 2021.
IRS: You recently published your first book about your work - “The Art of Annie Montgomerie: Flocked and Socked”. How did you find the process of writing and publishing a book? Was it something you’ve always wanted to do?
AM: I had thought about having my own book but sort of put it on the back burner as I didn’t have a clue how to go about it, then along came Long Gone John (John Mermis). He has his own record label and vinyl toy company and also produces artist’s books. John and his editor Mark Cox created a beautiful book from images and words I emailed across. It was a privilege to work with them and I’m thrilled with the book.
Carni - Textiles and mixed media for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Railing Latchers, at Beinart Gallery in 2021.
IRS: You have an upcoming show at Beinart Gallery, can you tell us a bit about the themes and the pieces you’ve created for this show?
AM: The theme of my little show is ‘Fitting In’. Harking back to my childhood as all my pieces do, the collection is about the loners in the class, misfits that form friendships. No matter how inadequate you feel there are like minded beings to connect with.
Pieces for Annie Montgomerie's solo show, Fitting In, at Beinart Gallery in 2022.
This interview was written by Indigo Rawson-Smith for Beinart Gallery in July 2022.
Indigo Rawson-Smith wears many hats, most notably as a Gallery Manager at Beinart Gallery, Jeweller for her brand Indigo Nox Jewellery, and as a devoted mother to her giant puppy Sappho.
Having spent a few years working in galleries and art spaces around London she relocated to Melbourne to undertake full-time study in jewellery design, becoming a member of the Beinart Gallery crew in early 2021.
As we’re acquainting ourselves with the concept of social interaction in a post-COVID world, Indigo has been attempting to polish up her rusty social skills while interviewing a number of Beinart Gallery’s exhibiting artists.
Tranquil and luminous, the artworks of Ontario based artist Chris Austin ask his viewers to re-think their perceptions of often misunderstood animals. Playful orca whales frolic and majestic sharks cruise through a range of settings, sometimes natural, sometimes human made, but almost always foreign to these beasts that society has often villainized.
Having set aside art in his youth to partake in the 9-5 grind, Austin found his way back to art making and has used his sculptures and gouache paintings to create an unfamiliar yet welcome narrative, casting the animals and landscapes he most admires in the leading roles.
About to share a new body of work for his exhibition ‘Wake From Your Sleep’ at Beinart Gallery, Chris Austin shared some background about how and why he’s trying to remove some of the perceived danger and mystery surrounding these creatures he most admires.
]]>Tranquil and luminous, the artworks of Ontario based artist Chris Austin ask his viewers to re-think their perceptions of often misunderstood animals. Playful orca whales frolic and majestic sharks cruise through a range of settings, sometimes natural, sometimes human made, but almost always foreign to these beasts that society has often villainized.
Having set aside art in his youth in the pursuit of financial stability via the daily grind, Austin found his way back to art making and has used his sculptures and gouache paintings to create an unfamiliar yet welcome narrative, casting the animals and landscapes he most admires in the leading roles.
About to share a new body of work for his exhibition Wake From Your Sleep at Beinart Gallery, Chris Austin shared some background about how and why he’s trying to remove some of the perceived danger and mystery surrounding these creatures he most admires.
The forests are thriving with life, and I truly believe they can teach us all something if we ask the right questions.— Chris Austin
Back To The Other Place Where I Cannot Go - Gouache on wood for Chris Austin's solo show, Wake From Your Sleep, at Beinart Gallery.
Indigo Rawson-Smith: Hi Chris, to start out can you give us a bit of background on you as a person and an artist? From your initial attraction to art, how did you get to where you are today?
Chris Austin: I have been somewhat creative for nearly all my life. I started taking my art in a serious direction roughly 10 years ago and have never looked back. I remember first being attracted to art as a young boy spending time in my local library, studying sci-fi cover art. I could always care less about the written literature inside, but the illustrations always excited me.
Nothing Matters When We're Dancing - Gouache on wood for Chris Austin's solo show, Wake From Your Sleep, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: I came across an early article which was about your success in selling your art on instagram back around 2016. What part did that play in launching your career as an artist?
CA: Yeah, that came about fairly quickly, overnight actually. I’m still not exactly sure how it all happened, but I suppose that’s the way social media tends to go I suppose. It’s been a great tool for exposure globally.
There Is A Place Within You That Is Always At Rest - Gouache on wood by Chris Austin.
IRS: What kind of process is involved in the creation of one of your paintings?
CA: I do a lot of research prior to a finished painting. I take loads of photos in strange locations with high contrast lighting etc. Sometimes I will sculpt a scene and do a preliminary life drawing as well. I have a few yellow slickers hanging in my studio, so if friends drop by I will often get them to model for me.
Faded Memory - Graphite on paper for Chris Austin's solo show, Wake From Your Sleep, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: You’re now known mostly for your painting, but in the past you’ve created highly detailed sculptures somewhat reminiscent of dioramas, floating islands of forested land inhabited by wild animals, and little mounds of earth featuring weathered signs encased in bell jars. What led you to sculpture? Is it something you still do or look to return to?
CA: Originally I sculpted them to do life drawings for 2D paintings, and then decided to exhibit the sculptures and not the painting. I put them on hold as I found the sculpture was consuming my painting time. That being said, I am much better at time management these days and yes, I will hopefully be sculpting again for exhibition soon.
Curse Missed Opportunities - Mixed media by Chris Austin.
IRS: Though humans sometimes feature in your work, the protagonists always seem to be animals; orca’s, sharks and bears in particular. What is your relationship with these animals and what do they mean to you?
CA: I have loved wildlife ever since I could remember. I’ve always had a deep emotional connection with them. I remember as a child visiting a local marine amusement park, and seeing these beautiful creatures locked up made me so angry and sad. To help my feelings as a child I drew wildlife living free, interacting with humans in a non-captive way, in the wild where there weren’t any cages.
Light Even In The Darkest Of Places - Gouache on paper by Chris Austin.
IRS: The one person who does feature somewhat regularly in your works is this person in a yellow raincoat. Is this always the same person? If so, who is this mysterious character?
CA: The figure in the slicker is a depiction of me. I didn’t want to paint a figure that looked like me, I wanted to leave it as a mystery for the viewer. I want viewers to be able to envision themselves, getting lost in a fantasy world.
It's You I Am Dreaming Of - Gouache on wood for Chris Austin's solo show, Wake From Your Sleep, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: Many of your works feature marine animals swimming through and interacting with land environments such as forests and cities. What was your aim in taking these creatures out of the water and bringing them into our world?
CA: I enjoy creating things that when seen together have a contrasting effect, and images that question and entertain the discussion of connectivity. I like presenting wildlife in bizarre manners, placing them in scenes that oppose practicality, creating an environment in which nature becomes unnatural.
Say What It is You Need To Say - Gouache on paper mounted on wood by Chris Austin.
IRS: Forest landscapes really seem to resonate with you, and you’ve said that one of the areas that you are drawn to and that inspires you most is the Pacific Northwest. What is it about this place that attracts you?
CA: I have a huge love for big trees, and the Pacific Northwest is definitely the place to find them. It’s just so magical out there. The forests are thriving with life, and I truly believe they can teach us all something if we ask the right questions. I hope to retire out there in a small cabin in the woods.
I'll Hear You Calling Me - Gouache on wood for Chris Austin's solo show, Wake From Your Sleep, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: One of the most striking parts of your work is the way you portray light, the way it glints, glows and illuminates, light seems to play a major role in all of your pieces. Is there a reason why light interests you so much? And how did you come to master the depiction of something so tricky and fleeting?
CA: I enjoy playing around with lighting in the studio, creating shapes and shadows with the right contrast. I still have loads to learn but am enjoying the process.
Brumbies Befriend The Bold - Gouache on wood for Chris Austin's solo show, Wake From Your Sleep, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: You’re a very capable person in many areas; you worked in baking for many years, you’re an accomplished artist, you make your own frames for your works and you’re currently renovating a house, just to name a few. What do you think is the key to developing such a wide skill set?
CA: I suppose I am always looking for something to keep busy. I always tend to have a side project on the go. The challenge of a new project is exciting for me.
You're All I Need To Get By - Gouache on paper by Chris Austin.
IRS: Your show “Wake From Your Sleep” at Beinart Gallery will be opening soon. What kind of ideas have you explored through the series you’ll be showing?
CA: I’ve explored ideas from recurring dreams I’ve had over the past few years. Perhaps I will come back in another life as a whale set free; flying through everyday depictions, interacting with others.
Wake From Your Sleep - Gouache on wood for Chris Austin's solo show, Wake From Your Sleep, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: What’s next on the cards for you? Are there any new ideas, animals or landscapes you’d like to explore?
CA: I never truly know what is around the corner, but I have a few ideas up my sleeve that I’d like to explore along with the same concepts with a slight twist of imagination.
Rewarded Are The Curious - Gouache on wood by Chris Austin.
This interview was written by Indigo Rawson-Smith for Beinart Gallery in August 2021.
Indigo Rawson-Smith wears many hats, most notably as a Gallery Assistant at Beinart Gallery, Jeweller for her brand Indigo Nox Jewellery, and as a devoted snack enthusiast.
Having spent a few years working in galleries and art spaces around London she relocated to Melbourne to undertake full-time study in jewellery design, becoming a member of the Beinart Gallery crew in early 2021.
In a year when we’ve all felt the touch of isolation and find ourselves forgetting how to speak to people outside of our COVID safe “bubbles” Indigo has been attempting to polish up her rusty social skills while interviewing a number of Beinart Gallery’s exhibiting artists.
With their striking juxtapositions of time and place and questioning of humanity's influence on our ever changing planet, David Ambarzumjan’s masterfully created, vibrant paintings have garnered a huge amount of attention. Ambarzumjan’s unique nature paintings are becoming somewhat of a phenomenon. At a tender young age when many are yet to find direction, Ambarzumjan has already begun to make his mark on the art world, with a passion and vision admired by many.
The Munich based artist gave us some insight into what inspires him to create in the lead up to his solo show at Beinart Gallery, featuring the newest works in his Brushstrokes in Time series.
]]>With their striking juxtapositions of time and place and questioning of humanity's influence on our ever changing planet, David Ambarzumjan’s masterfully created, vibrant paintings have garnered a huge amount of attention. Ambarzumjan’s unique nature paintings are becoming somewhat of a phenomenon. At a tender young age when many are yet to find direction, Ambarzumjan has already begun to make his mark on the art world, with a passion and vision admired by many.
The Munich based artist gave us some insight into what inspires him to create in the lead up to his solo show at Beinart Gallery, featuring the newest works in his Brushstrokes in Time series.
These are landscapes I’ve been to, but also landscapes I've imagined myself being in. I wanted to show how diverse life is and how incredible it is that all this originated from nothing but dust in outer space. A brushstroke of life on a blank canvas, so to say.—David Ambarzumjan
This Was Water - Oil on wood panel for David Ambarzumjan's solo show, Brushstrokes in Time, at Beinart Gallery.
Indigo Rawson-Smith: Hi David, I’d like to start out by asking about your artistic background. I know you discovered your affinity with art and started your art study at a very young age. Did you grow up in an artistic family? What was it that drew you to art?
David Ambarzumjan: My first vivid memory of doing art was in preschool. One day we were given canvases and acrylics to play with and I wanted to paint a family of penguins. It was so exciting to create something out of nothing and slowly see the painting come together. When my teacher saw the finished painting, she encouraged my parents to nurture the talent that she saw in me. I created two paintings of the penguins that day. Funnily enough, she kept one for herself.
My parents were always supportive of my interest in art. Especially my father, who is himself artistically talented but sadly never got the encouragement from his parents, let alone the education as a child. When he saw my interest at a very young age, he made sure that I got the education to improve my artistic skills.
Breach - by David Ambarzumjan for his Brushstrokes in Time series.
IRS: What was your learning process and education like? How important was your own exploration and experimentation to getting where you are now?
DA: I think ‘unconventional’ is the best way to describe my education growing up. Once a week after preschool, and later primary school, I attended an art course for children, where I was able to experiment with different mediums from drawing to painting to ceramics. Right after I went to the city museum for another art course that was technically targeted towards older people. But somehow they allowed me to join them in painting still lifes and discussing and reproducing traditional paintings from the museum archive. I was also learning to sculpt for a short time, under the wing of an Armenian artist. Needless to say, I’m grateful to my parents for giving me all these possibilities to explore my artistic interests at such a young age, while also supporting the hobbies of my four brothers, all without any financial security.
While in High School I wasn’t attending art courses anymore, because it was starting to feel like a chore. I felt like I had laid the groundwork enough to continue to learn and experiment on my own terms and in my own time. This was also around the time that I started to share my art online. Seeing all these different artists there, succeeding in their craft, motivated me even more to do the same.
Gezeitenwelle - Oil on wood panel for David Ambarzumjan's solo show, Brushstrokes in Time, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: Your ‘Brushstrokes in Time’ series has become very popular and recognisable, how did it come about? What do the brushstrokes mean to you?
DA: The series started out with smaller 20 x 20cm paintings of brushstrokes depicting natural landscapes, juxtaposed against the black and cold expanses of space. These are landscapes I’ve been to, but also landscapes I've imagined myself being in. I wanted to show how diverse life is and how incredible it is that all this originated from nothing but dust in outer space. A brushstroke of life on a blank canvas, so to say.
I asked myself how I could explore this theme more deeply, to show how the earth has changed over time. I’ve always been fascinated by time travel in books and TV, and felt like I could use the brushstroke as a vehicle to do just that, explore the same place at a different time. This was a perfect way for me to play around with colors and contrasts and imagine different scenarios in the future.
I think the brushstroke can have so many different meanings. Sometimes it’s a reminder of the past, sometimes a premonition of what’s to come. It can show the force and resilience of nature yet also how humanity had its hand in influencing it.
Untitled 20 x 20cm piece - by David Ambarzumjan for his Brushstrokes in Time series.
IRS: A lot of your current, larger works speak about the earth through the passage of time: what it was and what it is, and what it could be. Many of these pieces seem to speak of the impact humans have and will have on the earth. Was that environmentalism always at the heart of your work?
DA: There is no way you can speak about the earth’s changes over time without addressing the human impact we have had, and continue to have, on this planet. I think it’s fascinating but also concerning, to think that after the billions of years that the earth was around without humanity, we’ve managed to impact the planet in such a big way in just the short time we’ve inhabited it. It’s obvious when I contrast natural landscapes against city life, which I’ve done in a few paintings in the past, but I think there are much more nuanced ways to show how and where we might have influenced nature.
I like to think about it as a struggle for control. Sometimes life does things we have no control over, in a sense holding the paintbrush with a firm hand. Other times we completely take over or rather paint over what once was. But most of the time we slightly nudge the paintbrush into depicting a different outcome through our actions, causing problems that we will have to deal with in the future.
Breathe - by David Ambarzumjan for his Brushstrokes in Time series.
IRS: I’d like to discuss your process in making one of these Brushstroke works. I’ve seen that you paint the entire background painting with great detail before painting the disruptive brushstroke over it. Why is it that you choose to work this way? And do you pre-plan all the elements of this brushstroke and what it will contain, or is it more organic?
DA: A lot has changed since I’ve started this series and with it also the process of creating these works. The first few works I’ve done depict a brushstroke in the center of the painting. To create a consistent composition, I painted the whole background before deciding on where and how exactly I would be painting over it. I also wanted to record the process as a way to show the audience what this series is about. To give an example, with the painting “Recover” I created three years ago, I recorded myself painting over the cityscape with a giant white brushstroke. The initial video didn’t show the final painting at the end so what people were left to look at was a single white stroke of paint on top of a city scene painted with great detail. There was no instant gratification for the audience, even though that’s what we’ve gotten used to in the social media world. Many people in the comments didn’t shy away from expressing their anger towards me for what they saw. But the act of me seemingly "ruining" the painting and the reaction it caused was part of the work itself. Some people seem to forget that the process of painting isn’t always pretty. I had to look at that white stroke for days until it slowly developed into the finished painting with many doubts in between.
All in all it was the perfect way to showcase the messiness of the process, although I really enjoyed the "calculated destruction" itself. There are not many moments when working on a painting where I can feel my heart racing. But if I would do that with every new painting, I would definitely lose the excitement for that moment, and sharing a video of it would get repetitive after a while. Newer paintings in the series have the brushstroke cover about half of the painting down to the edges, so it’s easier to create a cohesive composition without fully rendering the background. The act of painting over it is left to the viewer to imagine themselves.
When it comes to planning the work, I have pretty much everything figured out before I start. Sometimes there are things that don’t work out, but then I also have new ideas that I didn’t think about before. So no matter how much I plan in advance, I still try to be open-minded to allow new ideas to grow.
Gravity - Oil on wood panel by David Ambarzumjan's solo show, Brushstrokes in Time, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: As mentioned earlier, there has been some variety and evolution in your themes within this Brushstrokes in Time series, could you describe any unique themes and narratives you’ll be specifically exploring with the series for your upcoming show with us at Beinart Gallery?
DA: I’ve created five new paintings for the show. With these new works in the series, I wanted to turn my focus away from urban scenes and towards natural landscapes, while still highlighting our influence on them, whether in the past, present or future. As with previous works in the series, I wanted to emphasize how diverse and unpredictable life is and how we can find parallels in the wildest differences.
I was also excited to experiment more with whimsical elements and surreal compositions with bigger and bolder, more textural brush strokes, conveying a sense of movement in the work. To make these contrasting scenes co-exist in one single composition, I was trying to find similarities between them, bridges that would connect light and darkness, life and death, warmth and coldness, creating a space where extremes can meet and intersect without the control of time.
Deserted - Oil on wood panel for David Ambarzumjan's solo show, Brushstrokes in Time, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: You have quite a large online and social media following, what’s that like for you as a young artist still very early in your career? Do you feel that it puts you under pressure or is it more of an encouragement?
DA: It’s definitely a bit of both. Having so many people follow and appreciate the work I do is still something I have to wrap my mind around from time to time. There is always a sense of vulnerability when sharing new work, not knowing how it might be perceived.
I’d be lying if I said I don’t care what people think about my work. I do, but at the end of the day, that’s not why I do it. I don’t want to let the opinions about my latest work, good or bad, influence what I will do next because I would not enjoy it or be able to grow artistically that way. Overall, I’m very grateful for the support I get, even though it can sometimes feel overwhelming.
Untitled 20 x 20cm piece - by David Ambarzumjan for his Brushstrokes in Time series.
IRS: You’ve used some of your Instagram auctions of small pieces to raise awareness and funds for a variety of charitable causes from bushfire relief for the Australian bushfires of 2019/2020 to the Black Lives Matter movement. Why did you decide on these causes and what gave you the idea?
DA: What moved me to dedicate an auction to these causes in particular were the horrifying photos and videos of what was happening going around the internet. I instantly felt like I had to do something, anything to help in the smallest way. Over the past few years, I’ve established a place on Instagram where people can participate in auctions to purchase one of the 20x20cm paintings I mentioned earlier. So I already had the platform I could use to occasionally raise awareness and money towards a dedicated cause. I’m excited to continue doing so once I get back to working on new miniature paintings.
Reverie - Oil on wood panel for David Ambarzumjan's solo show, Brushstrokes in Time, at Beinart Gallery.
IRS: What do you think is next for you and the Brushstrokes in Time series?
DA: I’m looking forward to traveling more since I haven’t been able to do that in a long time. This will hopefully inspire me to further experiment with the series to see where I can take it next. It’s daunting but also exciting, not knowing what’s to come. But seeing as the future hasn't been written yet, I feel like the possibilities are endless. We’ll just have to wait and see!
Untitled 20 x 20cm piece - by David Ambarzumjan for his Brushstrokes in Time series.
This interview was written by Indigo Rawson-Smith for Beinart Gallery in July 2021.
Indigo Rawson-Smith wears many hats, most notably as a Gallery Assistant at Beinart Gallery, Jeweller for her brand Indigo Nox Jewellery, and as a devoted snack enthusiast.
Having spent a few years working in galleries and art spaces around London she relocated to Melbourne to undertake full-time study in jewellery design, becoming a member of the Beinart Gallery crew in early 2021.
In a year when we’ve all felt the touch of isolation and find ourselves forgetting how to speak to people outside of our COVID safe “bubbles” Indigo has been attempting to polish up her rusty social skills while interviewing a number of Beinart Gallery’s exhibiting artists.
The typical reaction on first seeing one of Greg Olijnyk’s highly detailed, meticulously crafted sculptures is one of immediate intrigue. A feeling that quickly gives way to awe and disbelief on realizing that these mechanically precise, sci-fi influenced pieces are all made from an unlikely and humble material: cardboard.
Interested in building, construction and modelling since childhood, Melbourne based designer and sculptor Olijnyk turned his focus to creating intricate, mechanically mind-boggling cardboard sculptures in his spare time as a creative outlet.
Having only begun making and sharing these pieces with the world in the last few years it’s little wonder that he’s attracted attention with his mastery of such a little appreciated material.
About to show his work for the first time in his solo show at Beinart Gallery, Olijnyk shares how he came to develop his remarkable skill set and what goes into creating his sculptures.
]]>DvG 2.0 - Cardboard, florist wire & toothpicks, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
The typical reaction on first seeing one of Greg Olijnyk’s highly detailed, meticulously crafted sculptures is one of immediate intrigue. A feeling that quickly gives way to awe and disbelief on realizing that these mechanically precise, sci-fi influenced pieces are all made from an unlikely and humble material: cardboard.
Interested in building, construction and modelling since childhood, Melbourne based designer and sculptor Olijnyk turned his focus to creating intricate, mechanically mind-boggling cardboard sculptures in his spare time as a creative outlet.
Having only begun making and sharing these pieces with the world in the last few years it’s little wonder that he’s attracted attention with his mastery of such a little appreciated material.
About to show his work for the first time in his solo show at Beinart Gallery, Olijnyk shares how he came to develop his remarkable skill set and what goes into creating his sculptures.
The process of creation can be a very personal, even selfish, endeavour. At some point however you want to share what you are proud of with a wider audience. What gives you joy may do the same for someone else.—Greg Olijnyk
The New Neighbours - Cardboard, foam core board, tracing paper, clear perspex sheet, florist wire & LED lighting, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
Indigo Rawson-Smith: Hi Greg, can you start by telling us a bit about you and your art and design background?
Greg Olijnyk: I grew up in Ballarat, a regional town West of Melbourne. I guess I was drawing, playing with Lego and other construction toys as much as any other kid. I just kept at it a little longer than most, with the drawings becoming more intricate and the Lego evolving into Airfix modelling kits, the more detailed the better.
Art school at the Ballarat College of Advanced Education was next, studying painting and graphic design - because no-one thought you could make a living as an ‘artist’. My parents certainly didn’t think so! I think I enjoyed design because the devil really is in the detail. Solving visual problems in a design project helped develop particular ways of approaching a particular problem.
I transplanted myself to Melbourne where the design jobs were, and here we are in 2021, after a couple of design studio jobs and many years of running my own design business.
Pipe Dreams - Cardboard, clear perspex sheet, florist wire & toothpicks, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: Where did the fascination with robots, mechanisms and these sci-fi themes come from?
GO: Growing up in 1960s Ballarat meant being confronted with the past everywhere you looked - architecture from the turn of the century and a somewhat conservative way of thinking to match. Sci-fi is generally looking in the other direction, towards that next shiny new thing over the horizon. A promise of exciting new technology and wondrous visions of the future. Sci-fi books, films and TV shows gave us all a glimpse of that.
I was drawn to the artists who imagined such futures and made them look real: Chris Foss, Michael Whelan, Bruce Pennington, Jim Burns and later, Ron Cobb and Syd Mead. I collected books of their work and tried, unsuccessfully, to imitate it. Painting, as it turned out, was not my thing.
Speedybot - Cardboard, tracing paper & LED lighting, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: What was it that led you to use cardboard as your main construction medium?
GO: Over the years I dabbled in some form of sculpture, at one stage creating large typographical forms out of wood and plastic. But, these required power tools and a large workspace to fabricate them in. I came across work by other cardboard artists including Daniel Agdag, a fellow Melbournian, who created amazing, whimsical, detailed sculptures, and I saw an aesthetic that very much aligned with the sorts of images that had been swirling around in my head. His art revealed what was achievable using such a humble, ubiquitous material.
Cardboard proved to be the ideal medium to work with; it’s cheap, strong, flexible, easy to cut, bend, glue, fold, crease, stamp and drill. It required few tools to fashion, didn’t require a large workspace, made no noise while fabricating, produced no dust and the finished pieces weighed almost nothing. The cardboard I use now, a recycled, commercial, packaging grade card, has a rich natural colour with a subtle texture.
By using a monochromatic material, like working in marble or bronze, the uniform colour helps to focus the viewer on the form and detail. I am asked occasionally why I don’t add colour to the finished constructions. In an age of 3D printers, laser cutters and CNC machines where any imagined detail or form can be programmed and machined, the decision to leave the sculptures in their natural state celebrates the material and basically says ‘these are handmade, the imperfections, the design resolutions are there for all to see’.
The Captain - Cardboard, tracing paper, LED lighting & toothpicks, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: Your work involves very intricate cutting, moulding, folding and construction of the cardboard you work with. Where did you pick up these skills?
GO: When I started out as a designer in the 80s it was pre-computer. Artwork was produced manually – drawing boards, scalpel blades, glue. Packaging mock-ups for client presentations were also put together by hand. You needed to develop a modicum of cutting and assembly skills. Who knew I would be using the very same scalpel handle 30 years later, assembling cardboard robots. Several hundred hours of working with the material also helps to hone the skills a bit.
Detail of 'The Observer' - Cardboard, tracing paper, LED lighting & toothpicks, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: What kind of research and study is required to inform your sculptural constructions?
GO: Almost every mechanism or architectural piece I work on is inspired by a real piece of machinery or building. They all have their particular visual language. There are always details that the eye usually glosses over, but collectively add to the authenticity of a form.
A lot of research goes into every piece – how a collection of girders fit together, how do you build a fire escape, a sailing boat, an industrial robot on an assembly line? Research informs the detail and makes the final piece more believable. This then helps set the scene and create the context within which the rest of the sculpture operates. You create convincing residential apartment buildings in ‘The New Neighbour’ so that the mysterious industrial building in the middle looks more out of place.
Alan - Cardboard & magnets, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: Considering the intricacy of your sculptures and that you make everything as you go, with no major pre-planning or design software in sight, do you often find yourself facing obstacles in the construction process? What kind of issues do you come up against and how do you troubleshoot problems as you go along?
GO: Every sculpture has its obstacles, as does every design job. The extent of my pre-planning is generally coming up with a worthy idea to spend the next few months on. I tried planning a few pieces prior to construction but found that it just delayed the point where I started working with the cardboard. The final piece rarely looks anything like any initial sketches anyway.
I usually start with a key piece of the sculpture, a head for a robot, a cockpit for the dragonfly. Once one component is complete I can hold it, look at it in 3 dimensions and usually get an idea of how the next element will look, how the other components will flow from there.
The main obstacle is usually when there are many paths to go down, choosing from a number of directions that work equally well. I guess obstacle is the wrong word. What you are really faced with are design choices, which really is a thing all artists encounter. Occasionally I will do some pencil sketches to work out a difficult joint or piece of structure. Once the choice is made however, you are set on a path like a funnel. The subsequent choices are dependent on what has gone before until the final shape emerges at the end, sometimes as much a surprise to me as anyone else.
Of course a bit of backtracking is sometimes required, but it’s only cardboard, so any errors are easily rectified.
Alan - Cardboard & magnets, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: You’ve been making your sculptures for a few years now, do you find that your approach to making your sculptures, the process or the time it takes you to make them has changed at all?
GO: Not changed really, just refined. The material still dictates what you can and can’t do with it. I guess I have become quicker at knowing what processes will yield certain shapes or joints etc., but my pieces keep getting more complex and so are taking longer to complete.
It’s also a good idea to take your time when using tools with sharp, pointy bits on them.
Helibot - cardboard, glass dome, toothpicks, LED lighting, motors, brass screws. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: There’s a very particular aesthetic and feel to your creations, and the subjects have so much character. Was it your intention to create the feeling of continuity and narrative that people seem to see in your work, this feeling that all of your sculptures and characters have a story and exist within the same world, or has that just developed organically?
GO: I think the aesthetic has developed from the material, process and choice of subject matter, which is pretty diverse. Cardboard lends itself to simple curves, straight lines, and geometric shapes generally.
I think looking at several pieces together gives an impression that they are all linked but that wasn’t a conscious decision. The choice of a uniform construction material certainly gives everything a universal look, but the narratives that exist in some of the pieces don’t really have a common story thread.
The Observer - Cardboard, tracing paper, LED lighting & toothpicks, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: You’ve gained a solid following on social media and across the internet, what was it that led you to decide to share your work in person and have your first physical exhibition?
GO: The process of creation can be a very personal, even selfish, endeavour. At some point however you want to share what you are proud of with a wider audience. What gives you joy may do the same for someone else. Once completed, a piece of art becomes separate from the artist and takes on a life of its own, especially when shared (and reposted) on Instagram.
In terms of a physical exhibition, I read that sculpture exists in a slice of time and space. The act of appreciating a piece of sculpture requires the personal experience, sharing the same space as the artwork at a point in time, walking around it, discovering hidden details, experiencing the physicality of it. That’s something a JPEG on a social media site can’t completely deliver.
Assembly Line - Cardboard, tracing paper, LED lighting, toothpicks & brass screws, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: The title of your upcoming solo show here at Beinart Gallery is “The Contrivance”. Can you give us a little bit of insight into this title and its relevance to your work?
GO: Well, apart from the fact that titles of some shows can be a little contrived themselves, having been determined after the fact, the meaning of contrivance is ‘something contrived; a device, especially a mechanical one’ or ‘a complicated machine or piece of equipment designed for a particular purpose’. My works are certainly invented mechanical devices, and would also seem to meet the slightly more dubious definition, shared with artifice: ‘a clever strategy usually intended to deceive’. In this case the deception is that these objects pose as complex, sophisticated mechanisms yet are constructed from a common, base material that would seem to resist such manipulation.
And it sounded cooler than ‘the thing-a-me-bob’.
Dragonfly - Cardboard, tracing paper, LED lighting & metal armatures, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: You run your own graphic design business by day and create the sculptures in your off time, do you hope to see your sculptures become your full time focus in the future or is it something you do more for your own enjoyment?
GO: Can’t they be both? At some point I would like to spend a bit more time developing more complex pieces. It depends a bit on what the next couple of years hold.
Unibot - cardboard, toothpicks, glass lenses. Photo by Griffin Simm.
IRS: Do you have any particular ideas or concepts that you’d like to explore with future sculptures that you can tell us about?
GO: Maybe a series of life size robot heads?
The inspiration for most of these pieces has come about quite spontaneously, so you never know what might be next. I did however want to look at a few themes that I could explore, develop and build a new show around. ‘The New Neighbour’ is potentially the first in a series of sculptures that look at the stranger in our midst, the unsettling, mysterious presence next door.
The New Neighbours (by dark) - Cardboard, foam core board, tracing paper, clear perspex sheet, florist wire & LED lighting, by Greg Olijnyk. Photo by Griffin Simm.
This interview was written by Indigo Rawson-Smith for Beinart Gallery in July 2021.
Indigo Rawson-Smith wears many hats, most notably as a Gallery Assistant at Beinart Gallery, Jeweller for her brand Indigo Nox Jewellery, and as a devoted snack enthusiast.
Having spent a few years working in galleries and art spaces around London she relocated to Melbourne to undertake full-time study in jewellery design, becoming a member of the Beinart Gallery crew in early 2021.
In a year when we’ve all felt the touch of isolation and find ourselves forgetting how to speak to people outside of our COVID safe “bubbles” Indigo has been attempting to polish up her rusty social skills while interviewing a number of Beinart Gallery’s exhibiting artists.
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It’s hard to resist being lured in by Robert Duxbury’s soft, timeless paintings. The works are drenched in vulnerability and emotionally potent. Duxbury uses his art as a sort of reflective biography, working through memories of bittersweet youth and externalising tender moments of fear and suffering from a place of kind and gentle contemplation.
Originally a street artist, Duxbury was drawn to traditional Chinese painting techniques while living in Shenzhen. After much self teaching and investigation, Duxbury used these techniques as the foundation on which to build an art practice which became both a form of therapy and catalyst for personal and creative growth.
Ahead of his debut solo gallery show ‘Misanthropic Paradise’ at Beinart Gallery, Duxbury shared some insight into his creative journey so far.
]]>It’s hard to resist being lured in by Robert Duxbury’s soft, timeless paintings. The works are drenched in vulnerability and emotionally potent. Duxbury uses his art as a sort of reflective biography, working through memories of bittersweet youth and externalising tender moments of fear and suffering from a place of kind and gentle contemplation.
Originally a street artist, Duxbury was drawn to traditional Chinese painting techniques while living in Shenzhen. After much self teaching and investigation, Duxbury used these techniques as the foundation on which to build an art practice which became both a form of therapy and catalyst for personal and creative growth.
Ahead of his debut solo gallery show ‘Misanthropic Paradise’ at Beinart Gallery, Duxbury shared some insight into his creative journey so far.
I stopped pursuing the end result that would represent something I wanted to express and focused more on the process itself as a way to explore emotions I didn't fully understand, often conceptualising from my subconscious and learning the meaning along the way.—Robert Duxbury
Fragmented Reflection - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
Indigo Rawson-Smith: I’d like to start by asking about your creative beginnings. You were involved in the street art scene for a long time, how did you get into that? What drew you to it and is it still an area that you’re involved in?
Robert Duxbury: I was introduced to street art when I was about 15 years old, I was drawn to the rebellious nature of this form of expression. I also liked the idea of it as a kind of secret sub culture that you could be part of unbeknownst to others. I valued the sense of community, a lot of the younger graffiti writers and street artists were what you could call "troubled youth" and I identified with this.
A Lovers Kiss Beneath The Bushes - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
IRS: You spent a number of years living and working in China, what was it that brought you there and can you tell me a bit about your experience working as an artist there?
RD: I moved to China on a whim, seeking a change in environment. I first landed in Hong Kong and spent a few months living in Mong Kok before moving to Shenzhen in mainland China due to more street art and mural opportunities. The biggest impact China had on me was the sheer isolation, not only did I live in a village on the outskirts of the city where most of the residents had never seen a foreigner before but I also didn't have a VPN(so had no access to unrestricted internet). I don't think people fully understand how restricted the internet is in China; I had no Google, no Google store apps, no Facebook, no Pinterest, temperamental email and virtually no contact with the outside world. This created an environment where I was free from the influences of constant media and information consumption. This gave me the unique opportunity to explore what I really wanted from my practice without the pressures of comparison and need for validation that is so prevalent in modern society.
Cicada On My Face - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
IRS: It was while in China that you ended up studying the traditional Chinese Gongbi and ink wash painting styles. What drew you to those styles? And what was your training/ learning process like?
RD: Traditional art plays an important role in Chinese culture and I was exposed to it on a daily basis. I was drawn to the balance and composition of Gongbi Paintings. The balance of loose/precise brush strokes and the use of negative space in compositions gives these figurative works a really poetic style. Often depicting flora and fauna I found this way of painting an embodiment of mindfulness. I spent about a year observing and analysing this art form, collecting books,visiting museums and art villages before picking up a brush. My "training" wasn't exactly formal, I met some really amazing gongbi painters who gave me valuable advice and I spent a lot of time pestering the local art supply shop owner. But learnt mostly from observation and trial and error. This is definitely my preferred way of learning as I value failures as much as success and think this is an important process for developing your own style.
Ubi Amore Ibi Dolor - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel for Robert Duxbury.
IRS: On your return to Australia in 2019 you made the swap from walls to paper in transitioning to a studio based practice, can you share some of your experiences within this transition and give us some insight into the challenges you faced?
RD: Changing to a studio based practice felt more like a total rebirth than a transition and that's because it wasn't just my practice that changed but my entire way of living.
It started while I was in China but took an intense and abrupt turn towards the end of my final year living there. I first started painting in a studio as I practiced Chinese watercolour. It always felt like an uphill struggle to create something of meaning painting street art especially since I was mainly doing client based commissions. I think it was a combination of this new medium and the lack of expectations from outside influences that allowed something to awaken in me. It was like I had always had this untapped reservoir of expression and inspiration and all of a sudden the floodgates opened. Unfortunately at this point in time the isolation of living in China and other unhealthy habits had negatively impacted my mental health and I was in no position to harness this new potential. But with reckless abandon I dove head first into extremely ambitious projects and my obsessive and perfectionist tendencies overwhelmed me. I would spend weeks in my studio in a constant manic state consumed by these projects. I viewed everything else in my life as frustrating inconveniences that kept me from my work. This included eating, sleeping and spending time with my then partner. Things would get so intense that I couldn't mentally disengage with my work and relied more and more on my already problematic substance abuse as a way to find temporary relief from my raging mind. Things got increasingly worse, I grew temperamental and cynical, my relationships broke down, I burnt bridges with clients and started to resent who I had become. I eventually reached a tipping point and I could no longer bear the suffering that was my reality so I spent every waking moment intoxicated. I can't remember much of my final months in China. I woke up one day in Australia with no recollection of leaving or even taking a flight.
This was not the first time in my life I had spiralled out of control as I had suffered from addiction for almost 15 years, but unlike other times I felt a sense of defeat and knew I didn't have it in me to continue my life this way. I spent 3 months in a Buddhist / CBT orientated rehabilitation clinic in Thailand. Through a lot of counselling, intense study, exercises, meditation and Buddhist teachings I unpacked a lot of trauma and began to unlearn the things that had only served to keep me in a state of constant suffering.
Upon returning to Melbourne I began to practice my new relationship with life but I still needed to create a new relationship with art, from an unhealthy obsession to a more sustainable approach, I wanted to express myself through my art but at the same time I needed to be less emotionally attached to it. I knew I wanted to pursue a studio based practice as all the inspiration I had unlocked in China indicated this is what I was meant to be doing. At first I limited myself to small illustrations that I could only spend an hour or so on, the more of these I created the more I realised my creative pool was not finite. This alleviated a lot of pressure for things to be perfect as I began to treat each one as a lesson rather than a potential masterpiece. My mind was clear and I was more aware of my emotions which allowed me to process them through my paintings. Surprisingly this also helped me practice non attachment towards my paintings as I stopped pursuing the end result that would represent something I wanted to express and focused more on the process itself as a way to explore emotions I didn't fully understand, often conceptualising from my subconscious and learning the meaning along the way. And once the painting is finished it feels as if it has served its purpose allowing me to let it go and move on. I slowly became more ambitious with my paintings, learning my limits regarding fatigue management and self care and with this new approach I feel I have begun to harness my full potential as a studio based artist.
Engines of Failure - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
IRS: Despite the fact that you’ve only been creating works of this nature for a couple of years, your style has undergone quite a lot of change and development. Looking at your early work from a couple of years ago, the influence of the styles you studied in China is very overt. More recently you’ve begun to work with more colour and your themes and moods seem to be evocative of the Pre-Raphaelites and European romanticism. Were there key factors or inspirations that influenced you throughout this development or was it just an organic process as you discovered your style? And in what ways do you think that your training and time spent in China still have a lasting influence on this newer body of work?
RD: I suppose you could call it an organic process as far as direction goes, I look to the classics for inspiration as there is obviously something timeless about them. This influence has changed the way I use watercolour, almost trying to mimic oil paint resulting in a unique outcome as the mediums are vastly different. It's hard for me to view my paintings objectively but there might always be undertones of traditional gongbi in my paintings especially regarding composition and use of negative space.
Boudoir - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
IRS: Looking at your more recent work I notice that the subjects are almost invariably beautiful youths, often languishing and morose, their faces sometimes masked or obscured, they’re entrancing. Do these characters have a story or a source? How did they come to be?
RD: My works are quite introverted so a lot of the images and themes are representations of myself in some way or another. Often drawing on memories from my past. I find there is a certain emotional potency to youthfulness, this intense metamorphosis we go through as we all of a sudden become really self aware and our relationship to the world around us begins to change. I struggled with this a lot when I was young and often found emotions overwhelming, later in my life I would learn unhealthy ways to suppress these emotions. I like to use the juxtaposition of vulnerability and apathy to convey this in my paintings.
Wilted Flowers - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
IRS: Your upcoming show “Misanthropic Paradise” is your first solo show since transitioning from street art to a studio practice, how does that feel for you?
RD: To be honest it doesn't feel real at the moment. I have been so focused on painting I haven't given much thought to how I feel about it. But I am really looking forward to standing in that space and seeing this body of work hung, I know in that moment I am going to feel a lot of things.
The Voyeur - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
IRS: What does Misanthropic Paradise mean to you? What can visitors expect to see?
RD: Misanthropic Paradise explores the elusiveness of the deep and complex emotions that reside within our subconscious. This body of work puts form to these enigmatic emotions with the use of ambiguous symbolism and brooding colour palettes reflecting the subtleties in feelings and emotions or lack thereof.
Pomegranate - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
IRS: As mentioned earlier you’re still quite early in your studio practice. Following on from this show and having your first solo gallery show under your belt, what do you see next for yourself and your art?
RD: I had a lot of crazy ideas come up during the creation of this body of work that would not have fit in thematically so I'm looking forward to experimenting with this and possibly even exploring some new mediums.
Adieu - Watercolour on watercolour paper mounted on panel by Robert Duxbury.
This interview was written by Indigo Rawson-Smith for Beinart Gallery in July 2021.
Indigo Rawson-Smith wears many hats, most notably as a Gallery Assistant at Beinart Gallery, Jeweller for her brand Indigo Nox Jewellery, and as a devoted snack enthusiast.
Having spent a few years working in galleries and art spaces around London she relocated to Melbourne to undertake full-time study in jewellery design, becoming a member of the Beinart Gallery crew in early 2021.
In a year when we’ve all felt the touch of isolation and find ourselves forgetting how to speak to people outside of our COVID safe “bubbles” Indigo has been attempting to polish up her rusty social skills while interviewing a number of Beinart Gallery’s exhibiting artists.
Mr Everybody’s paintings exist in a hushed moment, taking place somewhere between imagination and reality. There his subjects encounter the kind of exhilarating, surreal liberation that we cling to when wrenched from a beautiful dream just a moment too soon.
We as an audience can only look on as voyeurs, witnesses to these peaceful and still scenes, watching as his protagonist is lifted up and floats away to something or somewhere beyond our grasp.
Mr Everybody, otherwise known as Shane O'Donovan, grew into art on the streets of Cork, Ireland. A street artist since his teenage years, the birth of his son inspired him to commit to his budding studio art practice and just a few years down the track we find him about to open his solo show ‘A Nice Place To Sleep’ at Beinart Gallery.
]]>Blurry Vision - Oil on wood by Mr Everybody.
Mr Everybody’s paintings exist in a hushed moment, taking place somewhere between imagination and reality. There his subjects encounter the kind of exhilarating, surreal liberation that we cling to when wrenched from a beautiful dream just a moment too soon.
We as an audience can only look on as voyeurs, witnesses to these peaceful and still scenes, watching as his protagonist is lifted up and floats away to something or somewhere beyond our grasp.
Mr Everybody, otherwise known as Shane O'Donovan, grew into art on the streets of Cork, Ireland. A street artist since his teenage years, the birth of his son inspired him to commit to his budding studio art practice and just a few years down the track we find him about to open his solo show ‘A Nice Place To Sleep’ at Beinart Gallery.
I feel I've learned more technically painting outdoors over the last 2 years than I have in 10 years from studying indoors in the studio. I really enjoy it and it forces you to make quick decisions so drastically, and also, in that process I might discover something I didn't know before —Mr. Everybody
Take Me Home - Oil on wood by Mr Everybody.
Indigo Rawson-Smith: So tell me about the name “Mr Everybody”. Where and when did that originate?
Mr Everybody: Well, going back to 2010/2011, in that time I was painting but using my own name quite a bit, I just wanted to separate my own personal kind of stuff with my art so I just said okay, why not take the idea of a tag in graffiti and transform it into something a little bit more formal in the art world? And I loved the idea of an alias. I threw about a few names and nothing really stuck or felt right. Around this time, I was watching a movie called Mr. Nobody and I was like “Oh, that's a cool name.” And then I said, “Well I can't use that exact name but maybe if I changed it, and keep the same idea.” So it led me to Mr Everybody. I thought it was kinda cool. It just kind of started from there and then eventually it just grew and I just let it stick, so that's where it originated.
The Black Forest - Oil on canvas by Mr Everybody.
IRS: Your signature balloon motif first appeared in the ‘Emerge’ series, but your current series really seems to have taken that motif and built a much more narrative world involving detailed sceneries and a sense of timeless location. Was that a conscious commitment to delve into creating this world that you have made? Is there a story to these misty, dreamy landscapes and the people in them?
ME: Well, the balloon motif started in 2015/early 2016. Basically it started off as little drawings! Ink and watercolor mainly, and I used balloons back then as more of a symbol to represent change and transition between life and death. Without going too deep into the philosophy of it, it was mainly just used as a symbol. Also, a lot of people can relate to balloons so I thought that would be perfect to use as a series of drawings. Then it evolved into bigger paintings and oil paintings. In the end it evolved from the Emerge series right up to where I'm currently at now, which is all of the narrative works that I'm doing that give more of a story to the viewer and make the world I want to create. Technically, the painting side of things is still a little bit lacking. What's more important to me is the story and the emotion. If a viewer can feel a little bit of an emotional pull or drag from the paintings then that's more important to me because the painting side can always get tuned up.
The Dancer - Oil on panel by Mr Everybody.
IRS: Being based in Ireland you have access to so many beautiful landscapes and nature right on your doorstep. How much of your current work has been painted directly from life and how much of it is a world of your own?
ME: Yeah! Being based in Ireland I feel quite lucky, it has had a big impact on my approach to the work. I had a friend maybe 10 years ago who asked me once if I would ever paint landscapes and I said no, because they're boring for me to paint! Little did I know they are now the most interesting to me. I feel more of a pull towards painting my surroundings as I've got older and trying to use them in my pieces the best way I can. So yes, I would have done maybe 2 years of plein air painting now and it’s great! Maybe an 1 hour to 2 hours just painting in nature is a great stress reliever!
It's something that I really never thought I'd end up doing or enjoying. I feel I've learned more technically painting outdoors over the last 2 years than I have in 10 years from studying indoors in the studio. I really enjoy it and it forces you to make quick decisions so drastically, and also, in that process I might discover something I didn't know before, with techniques or little ideas. Then I could put them into final paintings. Being on an island, the weather here changes so much and so quickly that we could have four seasons in one day. You know, it can go from really nice, to really bad, to stormy fast. So whenever the weather changes drastically it's a perfect opportunity for me to get out and to take some snaps.
Clay Castle - Oil on wood by Mr Everybody.
IRS: The theme for your upcoming solo show with us is ‘A Nice Place to Sleep’. What does the theme mean to you and what are you hoping to share with the viewers through this body of work?
ME: Well, we've all had that dream where you can fly right? It's like that dream state that you're in at that time, it's something really beautiful and happy and freeing. I wanted the title to basically embody that idea ‘all-in-one’ in the series of paintings, so I just thought the name was quite fitting for what I wanted to say about the entire collection.
November's Morning - Oil on canvas by Mr Everybody.
IRS: What is your creative process like in approaching a show of this size? Can you give us a bit of insight into how you work and create art?
ME: My creative process changes from time to time which is ok. I try to leave it to go in a natural way, and I'll not force it too much in any one direction. Mind you, it's good to have structure, but I can't push myself when I'm not feeling too motivated. I feel it's very dangerous for creativity to do that. I've had times where I've been extremely de-motivated and not creative for weeks, and it's like “Oh God! I need to be creative!” But after a while I’ve recognised that I can’t always be creative.
My process is strange because I feel with the current series of work I'm doing I need to be in a really heavy place emotionally to get the work that I want to do done. With this series, and the show from the very first day I said to myself “focus on one piece!” I try to keep it in some sort of a loose line. In that way I can have the next piece connected without all of the work looking the exact same. I don’t want them to look too similar, but instead to have similar moods and to be part of a bigger chain.
Hollow - Oil on panel by Mr Everybody.
IRS: Street art was your initial entry to the art world as a teenager, and it is an area in which you’re still active, along with your studio art. Did you find that much of your skill learnt in making street art transferred to your fine art work? And what was your learning process like otherwise in coming into your studio practice as a self taught artist?
ME: Yeah the street art was really good fun. I really, really enjoyed it when I was a teenager. A lot of friends that I grew up with in my local area dropped off, and would have been really heavily into crazy shit (drugs), so I was lucky that I had a creative go to. The street art side of stuff took me and distracted me from other things. I'd say it definitely paved a way to where I might be in regards to fine art now, with painting and studio work.
I think when I look at street art it's always something that I really enjoyed when I'm doing it, but I'd never have pursued a career in it. I want it to be separate. I want to use my studio work as a really personal way of expressing myself, whereas in street art it's all fun! It's still expressive and I've something to say when I take on jobs, but I also want to just enjoy it for the few pieces I do.
Girl in a Field - Oil on panel by Mr Everybody.
IRS: In terms of working both in street art and having a studio practice, do you find that the differing scales of the works you’re making allow you to explore your style and artistic vision differently? Do you ever find it challenging to move between the two?
ME: I really enjoy working big and outside. I'm not fond of the crowds, I like to be a bit more of an introvert when I'm painting, but all in all it's great fun and a great challenge. Two years ago I worked on an outdoor mural forty-five foot tall, and a ten inch oil painting at the same time in my studio at night. That was a challenge! But for the most part I know what I can achieve in both so I know my limits.
Lost at Sea - Oil on canvas by Mr Everybody.
IRS: Going from your Instagram presence, family and in particular your role as a father and your relationship with your son, are clearly very important to you as a person and as an artist. Can you tell me a bit about how your son and how your role as a father affects your work? Are there challenges involved in dedicating such long hours and so much attention to your quickly growing studio practice while having a (just as quickly growing) small human running about the place?
ME: Yeah, my family is extremely important to me. I love them very much and they play a big part in my role as an artist. When my son was born in 2016, that was really the kickstarter that I needed to pursue this as a career. I started putting up more stuff on social media trying to engage with other artists and galleries. It was tough at first ‘cause there are lots of different personalities in the art community and I'm very naive. But I met a great artist and now good friend, Dolldrums, and she guided me along. Scary thing, this art world! But having my family to share all these experiences has been amazing. Having my son growing up in this environment I think will be great in the future for him. All of my studios from the time he was born have been at home, so it was really important for me to be around him and to be creating, and at the same time it was almost kind of like the fuel to the fire in a way.
Bella - Oil on panel by Mr Everybody.
IRS: Going on from your solo show with us, what’s next on the cards for you? Do you have any particular goals or aspirations you’re working towards or are you just seeing where the art takes you?
ME: Well, once the show is done I'm going to start focusing on painting a little bit deeper. Maybe spend a couple of weeks just learning some new techniques and trying some new ideas which I can't wait to start. And yep, of course setting a few goals for myself is necessary, I think it's always good for a person to have goals whether big or small. We'll see what happens from there but learning and continuing to paint is gonna be at the forefront of everything anyway.
After the Storm - Oil on panel by Mr Everybody.
This interview was written by Indigo Rawson-Smith for Beinart Gallery in July 2021.
Indigo Rawson-Smith wears many hats, most notably as a Gallery Assistant at Beinart Gallery, Jeweller for her brand Indigo Nox Jewellery, and as a devoted snack enthusiast.
Having spent a few years working in galleries and art spaces around London she relocated to Melbourne to undertake full-time study in jewellery design, becoming a member of the Beinart Gallery crew in early 2021.
In a year when we’ve all felt the touch of isolation and find ourselves forgetting how to speak to people outside of our COVID safe “bubbles” Indigo has been attempting to polish up her rusty social skills while interviewing a number of Beinart Gallery’s exhibiting artists.
One cannot help but smile at the paintings of Jon Ching. Saturated with colour and often imbued with tenderness, they convey sometimes improbable relationships between flora and fauna. At the core of Ching’s work, though, is a celebration of nature and a quiet, sometimes sly appeal for humans to appreciate the world around them.
Jon Ching’s debut Australian solo exhibition, Phase, will be displayed at the Beinart Gallery from August 8 to August 30. This show started as a contemplation of life on Earth after the impact of humans has ended, but the advent of the COVID-19 pandemic shifted the focus of this series to one more oriented toward transitions in our human life.
]]>One cannot help but smile at the paintings of Jon Ching. Saturated with colour and often imbued with tenderness, they convey sometimes improbable relationships between flora and fauna. At the core of Ching’s work, though, is a celebration of nature and a quiet, sometimes sly appeal for humans to appreciate the world around them.
Jon Ching’s debut Australian solo exhibition, Phase, will be displayed at the Beinart Gallery from August 8 to August 30. This show started as a contemplation of life on Earth after the impact of humans has ended, but the advent of the COVID-19 pandemic shifted the focus of this series to one more oriented toward transitions in our human life.
Since I started using my work as a means to comment on issues and problems I feel passionately about, I’ve found it necessary to express a silver lining or an aspirational perspective rather than reflect what’s wrong. I dwell a lot on what's wrong, and honestly we’re constantly bombarded with it, so spending the amount of time it takes to make a painting about the negative aspects I see in the world would undoubtedly keep me in a dark place.—Jon Ching
Inoculate - Oil on wood for Jon Ching's solo show, Phase, at Beinart Gallery.
Julie Winters: You have a degree in mechanical engineering, which would seem like one of the ultimately “safe” ways to go about earning a living, but that career never materialised. What led you to pursue that degree, and is there anything from your studies in that arena that carries over into how you approach your art?
Jon Ching: I chose to study engineering exactly for that reason of being a “safe” career path. Toward the end of high school I had passion for and talent in both art and physics, but the purpose of college, in my view at the time, was to start a career. I didn’t know that art could be a career. I didn’t even know art school was a thing, so I chose engineering. I’m glad that I did and had actually tried to work in the alternative energy sector, if only to earn some money for a few years to set me up to pursue art. But I graduated straight into the Great Recession and took the lack of response from engineering as a sign to go for art.
I think the structure of my education gave me the discipline and time management skills necessary to be a working artist. All throughout engineering school they told us that they couldn’t teach us everything but that they would teach us how to teach ourselves. With painting, I’m constantly problem solving and making my process more efficient. My engineering background has helped guide me in that never-ending aspect of being a creator. In history we see that art and science directly complemented each other, and I think they still do.
Homestead - Oil on wood for Jon Ching's solo show, Phase, at Beinart Gallery.
JW: Tell us about how you got your start making art.
JC: My mom, who’s very artistic and crafty, always had some sort of artistic expression and developed in me a love for creation. We’d do things together like making paper, origami, crochet, Chinese calligraphy and crafting holiday gifts for the family. Her encouragement and support have always been the platform for me to express my creativity, and as long as I can remember, I’ve always loved and practised drawing and art making.
Pono - Oil on wood by Jon Ching.
JW: Can you tell us a bit about your process, from the germination of a concept for a painting to how that translates onto the canvas?
JC: In the past, a lot of ideas and concepts came from the muse and I’d gladly accept whatever was given to me. But now, as my production rate has gone up, I’ve had to work a lot more directly on idea development and have taken to a lot of journaling. I have a ‘brain dump’ file where I basically just talk to myself about the theme or idea I’m working on, asking myself questions, arguing with myself and working out the logistics of a piece. This amount of writing is new to me, but I’ve found it very useful to shake loose ideas from the back of my mind. This exercise usually leads to a thread I can follow up with research and sketching. Many times, for one reason or another, this leads to an obstacle or a place for more journaling and I’ll either keep working on it or put it aside for later, if not just chucking it. But in lucky times this develops into a composition strong enough to start a painting. I almost never have the piece fully formed before I start painting, and even sketching is new to me. I work out a fair amount while making the piece because I need to see how elements are working together.
Equanimity - Oil on wood for Jon Ching's solo show, Phase, at Beinart Gallery.
JW: In addition to your oil paintings, your website highlights your photography of musicians as well as of scenes captured internationally. What is it that you look for in taking photographs? How does your eye as a photographer affect your painting, or vice versa?
JC: With photography, especially with live music, I’ve become addicted to anticipating and capturing THE moment. It’s an instant of energy exchange or release, a moment that sums up the character of the performer. In my travels, I’m drawn to unique moments of cultural expression, of a life experience completely different than my own or just the sheer beauty of the land. When composing photographs, like my paintings, I seek out balance and space, giving my subject matter room to fully share their moment while other elements create a balanced harmony. I think photography has been a great way for my eye to practise seeing space, and [as] in painting, has allowed my intuition to tell me where things are needed and where is just right.
Tango - Oil on wood by Jon Ching.
JW: You’ve noted in previous interviews that there is a certain amount of hustle involved in an artist getting their work out into the world: networking with other artists, building connections, visiting galleries, things that can be thought of as marketing. How has our current pandemic situation affected the marketing aspect of your life as an artist? Also, could you share what impact, if any, the pandemic has had on how you make or approach art---whether in terms of subject matter, or if any changes in routine have changed your practice, or anything else that occurs to you in this vein?
JC: The pandemic certainly has had a big impact on my art making, specifically some of the work for my [upcoming] show with Beinart Gallery. It felt like half of my consciousness was always focused on the pandemic—the mass human suffering and loss of life. Even when I didn’t think I was thinking about it, I could feel emotional responses pulsing in waves as I worked. Then the epidemic of police brutality of Black Americans sparked into a pandemic of police brutality of all Americans, compounding the collective anguish of the U.S. and eventually the world. I couldn’t focus on the ideas I had mapped out for the show anymore, and I eventually stopped resisting and responded to those overpowering thoughts and feelings, conceiving and composing new pieces.
Future Ancestor - Oil on wood for Jon Ching's solo show, Phase, at Beinart Gallery.
Since I started using my work as a means to comment on issues and problems I feel passionately about, I’ve found it necessary to express a silver lining or an aspirational perspective rather than reflect what’s wrong. I dwell a lot on what's wrong, and honestly we’re constantly bombarded with it, so spending the amount of time it takes to make a painting about the negative aspects I see in the world would undoubtedly keep me in a dark place. I choose to make work that can spark hope, show compassion or teach lessons that can be a solution. In that way, I feel like I’m physically putting into the world that counterforce, resolution or brighter side.
Regarding how the pandemic has affected the marketing aspects of my art, I’m just thankful for social media and the direct connection I have with my supporters and art friends. I do really miss the physical, social engagement and the natural flow of conversations that always happen at art openings, but I have still been able to occasionally go see and enjoy the work in person. I’m in it for the long game, so this just feels like an extended pause until we can all gather and be friends IRL again.
Tulipa - Oil on wood by Jon Ching.
JW: One of the very fun aspects of your work is how you incorporate features of one life form into another life form; I’m thinking, for example, of the flowers in Tulipa. Is this something that you sort of train your eye for, or is it a gift of pattern recognition or some other thing?
JC: It comes from a mix of both training and proclivity. As a kid, I would tend to see shapes and figures in a lot of things like wood grain, stone marbling, the contours of the mountains. One major concept I’m always trying to express in my work is the interconnectedness of everything. I think that seeing similarities in shapes and patterns across the natural world is a way to explore our connectedness, and once I started looking at things that way, I started to see it everywhere. It doesn’t always come easy, even with my tendencies, and I do a lot of work and observation to find things that mimic or reflect each other to make my ‘flauna’ creatures. It’s a fun exercise of creativity and treasure hunting.
Vital - Oil on wood for Jon Ching's solo show, Phase, at Beinart Gallery.
JW: Looking at the expressions on some of the animals in your paintings, one gets the sense that you feel there is some wisdom they would pass on to us humans if they could. What are your thoughts on our relationship with the natural world?
JC: I think our relationship is broken with the natural world. We’ve stopped seeing it as a life source and something we are a part of and rather regard it as a thing, a resource to use. I believe we are doing the opposite of what our species’ role is in nature. In my opinion we are meant to, with our abilities to understand, organize and predict, help nature thrive, if only as a means to thrive ourselves. But we’ve separated ourselves from nature and no longer can see how we fit in. A lot of us can’t even see that we have an effect on the planet. At some point we stopped behaving like our life depended on the health of our planet and moved to just consuming it.
Cache - Oil on wood for Jon Ching's solo show, Phase, at Beinart Gallery.
I think nature has so much wisdom to teach us. Not just wisdom, but magic. As I continue to learn about indigenous cultures and ways of knowing, I believe we already learned a lot of that wisdom. It hurts me to think that hundreds of thousands of years of developing and transferring that knowledge among our species could be lost in a handful of generations for short-sighted profits that aren’t even needed. I employ my animals and plants to continue this knowledge sharing as I continue to learn.
Kumulipo - Oil on wood by Jon Ching.
JW: When I think of other artists I’ve seen whose work serves as sort of a commentary on the natural world, there are usually still humans depicted in their work, or at least an obvious stamp of the presence of humans. Your pieces are largely devoid of human intervention. Is this absence deliberate, and if so, please tell us more about this decision.
JC: Yes, it is deliberate. I think humans think about and look at humans far too much, especially in modern life with selfies, reality TV and celebrity worship. On top of that, I think we look at and interact with nature too little. So while my art is ultimately about humans and our relationship with nature, I choose to present a world where they don’t or no longer exist, to almost compensate for the overabundance of humancentric images we encounter. On top of that, I find the wonders and beauty of the natural world so much more fascinating than man-made objects, and I’d rather paint and dive into nature details.
To directly contradict myself, I have softened on the subject and have been thinking recently about including some human elements as a means to invite [people] to interact with my paintings more. I think representation is so important, and sometimes I feel like having a human element would help the viewer to see themself and their mark on nature rather than just being an observer. I want to call us to action, and this might be a way.
Reciprocity - Oil on wood by Jon Ching.
JW: From some of your descriptions of your paintings, it’s very clear that you’re not merely an observer of nature but that you’ve done some studying on the subject overall as well. Do you do research for specific paintings, or do your paintings arise out of the knowledge you’ve already garnered?
JC: Often, as a starting point especially for group shows, to see what characters I could employ, I’ll learn about endangered species in the region where the piece will be shown in hopes of engaging the local viewers. This process sparks inspiration as well as providing some parameters to work with. Since I’ve started using animals and the natural world as my subject matter, I’ve been engrossed in learning as much as I can about what I paint. There are endless species and relationships to discover and learn about, which is enjoyable for me and I think adds value to the work. With my desire to help educate others to spark or enforce an affinity with nature, I need to do the learning first myself. And I think realism, with so much observation, is a form of study, so in that way I’m always studying nature.
Pyre - Oil on wood by Jon Ching.
JW: Tell us about your influences: whose work do you admire? What kind of art do you appreciate?
JC: I love and am inspired by so much work out there that this is tough to answer. I definitely tend to be drawn to representational and realist artists, especially ones that focus on the natural world. I love the work of Hannah Yata, Lisa Ericson, Martin Wittfooth, Mark Maggiori, Josie Morway. Non-paint pushers inspiring me right now are Iris Van Herpen, Joel Sartore, Ta-Nahisi Coates, Ellen Jewett, Sasha Velour.
Cradle - Oil on wood for Jon Ching's solo show, Phase, at Beinart Gallery.
JW: You have a solo show coming up at Beinart Gallery in August. Is there anything else on the horizon that you’d like our readers to know about?
JC: I’ll be hunkering down soon to start a new set of paintings for a solo exhibition with Haven Gallery in January 2021. I’m in the early stages, but as a guiding force, I’m going to use the question, ‘How can I make humans worship nature again?’ I don’t exactly know what that will look like, but we need to go back to seeing nature as god, mother, us, again, so that’s my goal.
Moksha - Oil on wood by Jon Ching.
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in July 2020.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
]]>Scott Listfield’s paintings depict a lone astronaut exploring surreal landscapes, often evocative of apocalyptic science fiction stories. Protected from the elements, as well as from identification, the figure seems alienated in a world populated with recognisable corporate logos, pop icons, and man-made structures, often dominated by natural elements.
You’re very likely familiar with his work. His paintings have been exhibited internationally, and his concepts have attracted the attention of many publications. Even if you haven’t viewed one of his paintings with your eyes, you’re still familiar with the feeling that his works emit, which perfectly express a common cultural atmosphere we are experiencing, from a vantage point that feels safe.
It’s easy for anyone to see themselves in Listfield's spacesuit, recognising their surroundings, and perhaps feeling awed by them, yet neither able to place exactly where they are, nor feeling safe enough to breathe the air. And yet, these landscapes are stunningly beautiful and calm, showing deference to Mother Nature, and through that evoke a strong sense of hope.
This familiarity of the concepts inherent in Listfield's landscapes, combined with great artistic talent, are powerful tools to combine, perhaps conveying a message that the world needs to hear.
It’s a neat bit of synchronicity that this interview was published in November, 2019, the date in which Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner takes place, and thus falls out of our future.
Scott Listfield's debut Australian solo show, Fury Road, was held at Beinart Gallery in October 2019.
See available paintings by Scott Listfield.
The Sea - Oil on canvas for Listfield's solo show, Fury Road at Beinart Gallery.
Samantha Levin: What was your art education like, and what kind of affect or influence has it had over your career overall?
Scott Listfield: I went to a liberal arts college in a small town in New Hampshire, which is itself a small state in the US which even some people here in the US aren't totally sure is a real place (sorry, New Hampshire). I'm not sure if “liberal arts college” is an idea which translates in the rest of the world, but it was a smallish university which specialised in overall education – in other words, it was not an art school. I took classes in psychology, anthropology, math, astronomy, etc. But there was also an art department at the school and although I had no idea what I wanted to study when I first arrived there, I quickly realised that I wanted to be an artist and so I majored in art while I was there.
Most of my professors were 2nd or 3rd generation abstract expressionists and had grown up in a world where realism and narrative based painting essentially didn't exist. They also grew up in a world where living in New York was affordable and you could make a solid career teaching art, neither of which I found to be especially true anymore. Anyhow, they were all lovely people and I have fond memories of them and they did a very good job teaching me how to think about art, if not necessarily a great job preparing me to be an actual working artist in the world as it exists now. Which I think might be typical of many other people's art education.
My education was very much in a sort of modernist/abstract academic tradition, and I realized even before I graduated that I had zero desire to paint that way. Which led to much frustration in my early art career. But, as I've realized much later in life, it might be as important to rebel against your formal training as it is to embrace it. And boy did I. If I'm being totally honest, I might have started painting astronauts at least in part because I thought it was exactly the type of thing my professors would have seriously frowned upon. Most of them have been very supportive of my career over the years, so I almost certainly was projecting feelings onto them they might not have actually held. But, as a young artist, it was important to me to carve out my own path, and it was helpful in that regard to feel like I was doing something at least slightly rebellious. At any rate, I don't make artwork anything like what any of my peers in school ended up doing, but that's OK.
I don't know that my art education had a huge effect on the way I paint or how I paint or the subject of my paintings. But I think an equally important piece of what I do is the ideas behind it, and that ability to think about what I'm doing definitely comes from what I learned in school.
Empty Palace (Trump) - Oil on canvas by Scott Listfield.
Levin: It's wonderful that you rebelled a bit, and found your own voice, which is a hefty hurdle for artists to get over in their careers. You mostly paint in oils, right? What led you to that medium as opposed to acrylic? Have you experimented with anything else?
Listfield: Yup, I paint almost exclusively in oils, with the exception being when I do a mural, which I have done a few of. For murals, I paint in house paint, which is like trying to paint with a potato instead of a paintbrush. It's not my favorite, I guess is what I'm saying. And I paint in oils because I've always painted in oils. I like them and I never found the need to spend a bunch of time I didn't have trying other things.
For a very long time, over my early career, I worked a full time job as a designer, and I learned that the only way I would be able to do that while also making enough paintings to actually show was to cut out all the unnecessary parts of my art practice. No more farting around in the studio. No dabbling with mediums I sucked at. No experimenting with different types of paint. Which was fine. I'm kind of a creature of habit, anyways, so I never felt a strong need to step out of my comfort zone.
Billions and Billions - Oil on canvas by Scott Listfield.
Levin: What prompted you to leave your day job? Did you have a positive experience with it? I ask because I’ve heard so many disparage the artist’s decision to keep a day job, even after their work starts showing in galleries and selling, yet it’s often the thing that provides the financial stability, good health, and comforts needed for them to develop their work, and grow their career.
Listfield: First of all: yes, I liked my day job. Right up until the point when I didn't like it anymore. Because it's a day job. It's never going to be rainbows and unicorns all day. But for the most part, it allowed me to be somewhat creative during the day, to solve interesting problems and to make a living. These are extremely important things and I think many artists are too eager to leave the day job and make art full time. Which I totally get, especially if, unlike my situation, you are working a job during the day that is boring as turd.
But having a job with steady income was HUGELY important for me early in my career. It allowed me the time and space to paint anything I wanted. And let's be frank, in the early days of me making weird astronaut paintings, very few people wanted to buy them, and I had a 0% chance of making a living doing it. It's only by slowly building my art career up over years, investing a lot of time and patience into making my work better, and making my career sustainable, can I now do it full time. I was very reluctant, for a long time, to leave the safety net of a day job behind. If I had failed as an artist, and there's an insanely high probability that I would have, I would have had to go back and get a day job anyways. And to be honest, that's exactly what I did.
Leaving my day job wasn't some leap off a cliff. I grew sick of the job I had, and I had reached a point in my art career where things were going well, but it was really like having two full time jobs. Something had to break. So I stepped away from working my design job, and at first it was only for a few months, to see how it went. Let's just say, it went well. 3 months became 6, 6 months became a year, and once I realized it was sustainable, I haven't looked back.
But I'm only one bad turn from the economy away from looking for another full time day job, so I think it is, in general, not a great idea to think of it as some adversarial relationship. It's important to be realistic about the role that a day job plays in almost every single artist's life. It's only the most successful minority that never have to worry about such things.
Shelter - Oil on canvas for Listfield's solo show, Fury Road at Beinart Gallery.
Levin: A gallerist in New York who I was working for once advised me that there’s a very fine and fuzzy line between responsibly taking care of yourself, and taking the risks that are necessary in order to develop a successful career in the arts. Talent is a main ingredient, of course, but so many other things need to come together, to get to the point where you can quit a day job. I think that those habits of yours that you mentioned earlier are included in that alchemy. They come through to me as clarity in your work and its voice. There's a language spoken through them that can only come from you, and I suspect that those who are familiar with your work will find comfort in that: the symbols you use and story you tell are familiar and grounding. Does that ring true?
Listfield: Well, thanks! I certainly hope so. It's always been one of the most important things to me to have a unique voice come out in my work. It's something I thought about a lot early in my career. I knew I was not, by a long shot, the most talented artist out there. I didn't go to a top art school. I didn't live in New York, I didn't have a lot of high powered connections, my work maybe didn't fit in with what was happening in the gallery scene back then.
But one thing I knew I had was a singular vision. I knew I had something to say, that no one else was saying. Of course, back then, I wasn't all that great at making the paintings convey that vision. But that's the thing about spending many years working on the same project. About making, literally, hundreds of paintings. I did get better at making them, which is nice, obviously, but I also got much much better in finding my specific voice.
Knowing what I wanted to say in my work and how I wanted to say it. Giving the work a very specific emotional voice. That's the kind of thing I definitely couldn't have done early in my career. I just didn't have the skills as a story teller. I had to hope that what I was saying would resonate with people, and that they, too, would find some familiarity in what I was saying.
In many ways I'm very lucky that it seems that they have. But it's also the payback for all those years of knowing I had something to say, and keeping at it even when there was no one listening at the time. Eventually I found my voice and, thankfully, an audience interested in listening to it.
Tripod 1 - Oil on canvas by Scott Listfield.
Levin: You were strongly inspired by Kubrick's 2001 A Space Odyssey. Can you tell us how this film influenced the direction of your work? Also, are you a fan of old science fiction illustration from the 1960s?
Listfield: I previously mentioned that when I graduated from university I was left grappling with what kind of art I wanted to make, in large part because I felt a bit disconnected from the type of art I was taught to make. I spent half of my last year in school studying in Italy, I returned back to my college to finish up, and then three days after graduation I hopped a flight to Sydney, and lived there for around 6 months. Living abroad had really changed my perspective on my place in the world, while also, strangely, making me feel like I didn't quite fit in once I returned home, either. I started working an entry level job, got myself an entry level apartment in Boston, and tried my best to start being an adult, which I felt very poorly equipped to do.
Around this time I started thinking about making paintings that were almost like short stories about the world around me. About exploration, about the strangeness of the contemporary world and about the feeling of alienation as we make our way through it. I knew that I wanted there to be a recurring character in these stories, a protagonist who appeared in each one to center and ground the stories. I knew I didn't want to paint myself doing these things, I wanted it to be a much less specific character, ideally someone the viewer could easily see themselves in.
For some context, this was right around the turn of the century. The year 2000! Which sounded super futuristic back then. People were freaking out about Y2K and wondering if the world as we knew it might end. I had always thought that my 21st century future would involve flying cars and robot best friends. Instead I was living in the world's tiniest studio apartment eating single serve pizzas and watching garbage TV on my tiny television. It was at this moment that I watched 2001: A Space Odyssey for the first time.
Ball's Pyramid - Oil on canvas for Listfield's solo show, Fury Road at Beinart Gallery.
And something about it struck me. The movie originally came out in 1968, and here I was, practically in the actual year 2001, and it all seemed so futuristic still. And that's when it occurred to me, watching the fictional 2001 on my crappy television. I had grown up watching science fiction movies and TV shows, reading comic books and novels, and I had expected that to be the future I would grow up into. And it was not. At all. And yet the world around me felt strange and alien still. Just not in the ways I had imagined. And so right then and there it occurred to me that this astronaut, the one from the fictional 2001, the one I had grown up all my life thinking would be a symbol of the future I would live in, that astronaut should be the protagonist in my paintings.
And so I started painting astronauts. And yes, to answer your question, when I first started I was very interested in old science fiction illustrations from the 60's. They're so unashamed of being utopian, which in my cynical 21st century brain is both extremely charming and also a little bit sad. I don't look at them much anymore though because I feel like they almost live more in the world of I Love Lucy than they do of anything contemporary. And although I was very much inspired by visions of space from the 50's through the 80's, I now spend more time thinking about our actual future and where we might be headed.
Grevy's Zebra - Oil on canvas by Scott Listfield.
Levin: The dreams of utopia that science fiction so often tried to depict for pop culture were candy-coated for sure. Your upcoming show at Beinart, Fury Road, is largely about the time you spent living in Australia, and, of course, the most recent Mad Max movie, which links to the significant post-apocalyptic theme that speculative or science fiction often explores. Tarkovsky's Solaris, and Roeg's The Man Who Fell to Earth both come to mind. While this is nostalgic for you on a personal level, I think that you’ve struck a chord. How might this upcoming body of work connect with a larger group of people? Is there a zeitgeist you’re connecting to, here?
Listfield: Well I think it has long been a human passion to think about how it all ends for us. Movie series like Mad Max and the Terminator are pretty bleak and yet regularly make hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office. I'm tempted to say that might be a more recent obsession, but hey, even the Mayans had an end date. In the 80's we were worried about nuclear destruction and now we're worried about environmental collapse.
And so while it certainly feels more timely to me to discuss topics related to the environment in my work, or to think about dystopian worlds, given the current political climate, it's also probably ALWAYS been timely to talk about such things. I mean, in addition to the films you mentioned, I'm also influenced by H.G. Wells, who was writing about how technology might ruin our world way back in the 1890's. And George Orwell, writing about political dystopias in the 1940's. And I love the movies of the 1980's which I grew up watching, like Escape From New York or War Games, which are still fun but feel vaguely kitschy now, but were genuinely kind of scary back then. It always feels like we're on the brink of some catastrophe. Maybe that's just what humans do.
Of course I'm also super interested in how the visions of the future from pop culture eventually seeps into our actual culture and become real. Like the Apple watch which was basically in Dick Tracy, or the communicator from Star Trek which is kind of an iPhone, or things from Star Wars that scientists are working on making real. I mean, people have been trying to make the self drying shoes from Back to the Future II. In some ways, this future we've found ourselves in isn't at all like the one we imagined.
But in other, weirder ways, reality has mirrored science fiction exactly because we explicitly wanted it to. There's a scene in [the US cartoon show] Rick And Morty where Rick has accidentally turned Earth into an apocalyptic hell-scape, and he and Morty bolt for another dimension, leaving his family behind to deal with it. [In this new dimension] they've created a fake TV frame and are retelling Jaws like it's an ancient tale handed down from their ancestors. I can only hope I don't find myself around a campfire someday telling the story of Fury Road because TVs and electricity have ceased to exist.
Star Blazers - Oil on canvas by Scott Listfield.
Levin: You’ve often talked about how, when you returned back to the US after living abroad in Australia, you were haunted by the feeling of being far from home, which has largely inspired the direction of your artwork; ironically you found yourself in your work. What do you think it was that made you feel this way, and how might you define “home?”
Listfield: Well, I don't want to make it sound like I was a great world traveler or anything, I spent a few months living in Italy while I was in school, then went back to college, and then spent around 6 months living in Sydney, and then returned home for a while, which was the suburbs of Boston, before eventually moving into the city. But this all happened at a very formative time in my life, when I was finishing up at university, trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, and then setting out extremely half-assedly into adulthood.
But I spent a lot of time traveling alone over this period of time, in countries and culture that weren't my own, and as anyone who has done that before can tell you, you do eventually get used to being “not from around here.” Maybe you don't speak the language well, or at all. Or maybe, like my time in Australia, where my grasp of English was pretty solid, but the small things that should feel totally normal seem just a little weird. I didn't recognise most of the brands in the supermarket. Every time I spoke with someone there was a brief pause as they processed my accent. I had absolutely no idea where I was going most of the time. People drive on the opposite side of the road. Why is lawn bowling on television? These are very small complaints and, in fact, often add to the fun of traveling abroad, but you just get used to things feeling unfamiliar. And then you return home and expect that feeling to go away and it doesn't.
I've since learned that this is a pretty common response to travel, especially if you've been gone for a while. So it's not anything unique to me. And it happened at a time in my life where so many other things were in flux. That was a long time ago now and I did, after some time, start to feel “at home.” I don't really know how to define that concept, other than a place where you don't have to think about all the details. You know where things are without the extra mental barrier of being lost most of the time. And, of course, I now like to actively search out that feeling of being in a foreign environment. Wandering alone in a city I don't know. It helps for my work, of course, but also I just like it. I'm just not sure I would want to feel like that all of the time.
Number 83 - Oil on canvas by Scott Listfield.
Levin: Your astronaut is pretty quiet, yet makes a pretty strong statement. Do you see your work as being subversive, and could you imagine yourself ever getting louder?
Listfield: Haha! They're paintings so I'm not sure they have a volume, exactly, but I do like to think of them as being quiet. There's something about the astronaut, with a sealed helmet on, that makes me think of these scenes happening soundlessly. Of course, the paintings are often kind of contemplative, which I think is a mood that lends itself to silence. That said, I'd like to think my work is also saying something, which requires a voice of some kind. I definitely have made a few paintings recently that I might consider “louder.” Or more specifically political.
There's a lot happening in the world right now, a lot happening in my country right now, that I don't agree with. I feel like we're headed in a sad direction. I often considered my work to be very obliquely political, and I was unsure if I wanted to comment more explicitly on things that were happening. But I'm an artist. I have a platform. I somehow have a surprising number of people following me on various social media platforms. It occurred to me that if I didn't use this platform to say something, than what was I doing this all for anyways?
And so yes, I guess I have been louder lately. But no, I don't consider either myself or my work as “subversive.” I'm not a dictionary, but to me, being subversive implies saying things loudly and aggressively that might upend the norm, that might be contradictory or insulting or deliberately inflammatory to a lot of people. As far as I'm concerned, I'm not saying anything that the majority of people aren't thinking as well. I just happen to make paintings about it.
Make America Again - Oil on canvas by Scott Listfield.
Levin: Perhaps subversive wasn't the best term to use, but your work and its platform has the potential to influence for sure. Sometimes a quiet or subtle voice can make a stronger impact than a loud one. How does it feel to have so many people following you on social platforms? It could definitely serve as an amplifier for any messages your artwork can convey. As your numbers started to grow, what were your thoughts? How does it help your career, and how has it hindered it?
Listfield: I'm not going to lie: it's a little weird. I regularly look at those numbers next to my name on Instagram and wonder, sincerely, “Who the hell are all of these people??” Of course your number of followers is not everything, and it's a dangerous path to start getting too full of yourself because of it. But it is amazing. Genuinely amazing. If you had told me 15 years ago that there would be a way for me to get my work out in front of thousands of eyeballs, IMMEDIATELY, like before a painting had even left my studio, I would have been very doubtful, and then asked how many thousands of dollars you wanted from me for this service. ALL I wanted back then was for people to look at my work. And I think now we all take it for granted that it's a free service, literally free global advertising. People complain about it all the time. And hey, rightly so. Social media has a ton of net negative effects on our society and culture. Don't get me started.
But it has also given me, a smalltime independent artist, a voice, a footprint, and a platform that is way larger than I would have at any other point in human history. I can connect with people around the world in a way that would have been completely impossible, and unimaginable, not that long ago. There's no way I could be a full time artist without that. It's a gift. But it's also a responsibility.
In recent years, as things have started to go sideways, politically and societally, I've been looking at that number next to my name and thinking “I should do something.” For whatever reason, I've been given an outsized platform to say things, and I would feel lousy about myself, looking back years from now, if I didn't use that platform to say something. And so I mostly use it to post my weird astronaut paintings and farm for likes and hearts and thumbs-ups. And to sell my paintings and to sell my prints and, yes, to build my brand (ugh). But I've gotten a bit more outspoken recently, both in my online voice, and in my work, and I'm trying to find ways to leverage both to, hopefully, do a small bit of good in the world. It's the least I can do, I think.
Doof Wagon - Oil on canvas for Listfield's solo show, Fury Road at Beinart Gallery.
This interview was written by Samantha Levin for the Beinart Gallery in November 2019..
Samantha Levin spends much of her time working as a digital curator, archivist and librarian preserving rare art- and design-related materials. Also an artist and curator, she works with Contemporary Grotesque and dark artists, curating and producing group and solo pop-up exhibitions. She currently lives and works from her Brooklyn studio with the ghost of her white marshmallow-shaped cat, Luna.
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For those interested in dark art and horror, the art and creativity of Chet Zar has no doubt entered their minds. A multi-disciplined artist, Zar’s work spans decades and has stayed true to the original inspirations that prompted him to make art. After spending many years working in Hollywood as a special effects artist on such notable movies as Darkman, Hellboy, Planet of the Apes, and multiple Tool videos, Zar decided to take his skills in the direction of fine art, and since then established himself as a master in contemporary art and a growing movement of dark artists around the world. He has curated multiple group shows, and is the founder of the Dark Art Society and host of a long running podcast that focuses on a scene he as inspired in so many ways.
]]>For those interested in dark art and horror, the art and creativity of Chet Zar has no doubt entered their minds. A multi-disciplined artist, Zar’s work spans decades and has stayed true to the original inspirations that prompted him to make art. After spending many years working in Hollywood as a special effects artist on such notable movies as Darkman, Hellboy, Planet of the Apes, and multiple Tool videos, Zar decided to take his skills in the direction of fine art, and since then established himself as a master in contemporary art and a growing movement of dark artists around the world. He has curated multiple group shows, and is the founder of the Dark Art Society and host of a long running podcast that focuses on a scene he as inspired in so many ways.
I think Dark Art is a safe way to confront our own shadow side (which we all have) and make peace with it. Or at the very least, to understand it. —Chet Zar
See available paintings by Chet Zar.
Shamanic Tendencies - Oil on canvas.
Josh G: You've been interested in monsters and dark art since you were a kid. How has your view on dark art changed over the years, if it all, due to simply growing older and becoming more aware of the world around us?
Chet Zar: If anything, I think it’s become more relevant. I still have a great love and attraction to it but I guess I am a little more discerning than I used to be. With its increasing popularity there are a lot of people who don’t quite get it and go straight for the upside down crosses and pentagrams. That is such a limited interpretation of what Dark Art really is. I’m hoping as a community of artists we can move past that stuff and really dig deep within ourselves and confront our own darkness. This is where the power lies, not in the regurgitation of Hollywood horror movies misunderstandings of the occult and pop culture symbology.
Ego Death - Oil on canvas.
JG: For years you worked in the movie industry doing special and makeup fx. How do you think this experience helped you when you made the change to focus more on your personal art?
CZ: It made me realise that no matter how high up the chain you get in FX, you are still ultimately just a pair of hands serving another person’s vision. Now there is nothing inherently wrong with this. In fact, I believe serving others is our highest calling. But who are you serving? It’s a rare occasion when you get to work for a real visionary who is worthy of your talents. I have often said that if the film industry was full of people like Guillermo del Toro, I may not have left it. There are not enough Sam Rami’s, Martin Scorcese’s, etc but there are a shitload of Michael Bay’s.
So I guess the experience of the endless let downs working for people that I felt were less talented than the FX crew itself just made me wise up to the fact that if I wanted to do things that I thought were worthwhile, I was going to have to do them myself.
It was a great artistic education for me and I will be forever grateful for that. I also made some great friends and got to work with some really talented people. But sometimes I wish I had the foresight to have started straight in with my own personal work instead, although I don’t think I would be as good of an artist, technically speaking. I really learned a lot there and it helped form me into the artist I am now.
Crooked Smile and Skull Administrator from Chet Zar's show, The Administrators.
JG: As with most movements, dark art tends to have a lot of misconceptions and stereotypes placed on it. Can you talk a bit about what a person viewing your art, or dark art for the first time would not expect learning?
CZ: Dark doesn’t necessarily mean “evil”. I think that is the biggest misconception. Dark can mean a lot of things and “evil” is only a tiny fraction of it. Dark is the mystery, the hidden places of our psyche, our subconscious. And that’s where all the juicy stuff is! I think Dark Art is a safe way to confront our own shadow side (which we all have) and make peace with it. Or at the very least, to understand it.
I Want You - Oil on canvas.
JG: Along with creating art, you've also been curating art shows such as Conjoined and the Dark Art Society group show. What got you interested in curating and what do you like and dislike about it?
CZ: Having a strong relationship with Copro gallery gave me the opportunity to try it out. They were very cool to let me curate, especially since the first couple I did were total bombs. But they stuck with me and it’s been very fruitful.
I really enjoy choosing the artists that I like and think deserve more exposure. That’s really personally rewarding. I dislike the organisational aspect of it, like contacting all the artists and keeping them updated with emails and stuff. I’m not a very organised person. I wish I was but I’m not wired that way. But I’m always working on it!
Heartbroken - Urethane Sculpture and oil paint by Chet Zar.
JG: How do you feel your work has evolved over the years, and with this in mind, what are some of the most significant series you have created? Also, how do these series relate to your book Dy5topia?
CZ: Probably the biggest evolution is that I figured out what the hell I was doing! I didn’t go to art school and I was mostly self taught so I used to really just feel my way through a painting until it looked right. Once I started teaching seminars at tattoo conventions and stuff I had to really figure out what I was doing. So a lot of my focus over the past 10 years or so has been trying to understand my own process, refining it and verbalising it in order to be able to teach it.
But during this whole period I was just doing what I usually do when it comes to painting- just following my nose….or following my art, I guess you could say. I never set out with a plan to create a world full of characters but with the Dy5topia project, I have done exactly that. Dy5topia is basically going to be a field guide to the world I have been painting for the last 15-20 years. I’m treating it like it’s a real place, kind of a hell realm or other dimension. I suppose that Dy5topia is really my biggest evolution as an artist, but it was kind of after the fact. I looked back on all these paintings and thought (with other people telling me this as well), “Hey! These creatures look related and they look like they all exist in the same kind of world!”. And Dy5topia was born. It’s a book project that I Kickstarted and it’s about 3 years late at this point. But I’m so close to finishing it!!!!!
Faceless Administrator & Spider Administrator from Chet Zar's show, The Administrators.
JG: How do you think your childhood and experiences lead you to making dark art?
CZ: Well, my grandfather used to turn the lights off in his house and chase us around with a caveman mask on...that might have had something to do with it haha. There was also a lot of family strife, arguments, parents divorcing, etc that I think kind of drove me to horror movies. Well, not drove me there but gave me something I could relate to, something I could place those feelings of fear and anxiety that I had from the trauma. I think there was a kind of recognition there. When I saw a horror movie on TV I think in the back of my mind I was like “Hmmm...I am familiar with this feeling this movie is giving me.”. Of course this is a kind of “after the fact” self analysis of me trying to make sense of it. The other possible (and probable) reason is just that I’m built this way. I always loved the weird, the spooky, the bizarre. It feels like it’s in my blood.
Softspot - Urethane Sculpture and oil paint by Chet Zar.
JG: What are some of your future plans for you work, and goals for the dark art movement?
CZ: First: finish the Dy5topia project. Once the book is finished I would like to start thinking about making a Dy5topia film...or maybe a comic book first. I’m still not sure. I would like to continue to explore that world and use new mediums to do that. Film would be the ultimate, though. I used to be really into making movies on my dads super 8 camera when I was a little kid. I wanted to be a director before I got into makeup effects. I’m a huge fan of film. I think I could do it.
The Dance - Oil on canvas.
JG: In the past couple years you started the Dark Art Society and have hosted the Dark Art Society podcast. Can you talk a bit about how both of those started and what you see for them in the future?
CZ: It all started while Mike Correll was making a documentary about me (Chet Zar: I Like To Paint Monsters). We would have these long conversations about where the documentary was going and how it was organically forming based on footage shot, the art shows that happened while filming, etc.
One thing we both noticed was how many fans of Dark Art were at these shows and events we were filming at and how big the movement was getting at a grassroots level. It was clear that this documentary wanted to be about more than just me. It wanted to be about the Dark Art movement as a whole as well.
We both kind of had the same epiphany at around the same time: this thing was bigger than either of us. So we decided to take up the mantle and try and form some sort of community. Other than the documentary, the podcast seemed like a logical place to start. It started out as an extension of these phone calls he and I would have about the movement and whatever else we found interesting. Mike was gracious enough to manage the technical stuff like promotion, posting, etc. I wouldn’t have started it without him because my time is so limited. It started as he and i just talking about this stuff with artist interviews here and there. But eventually he had to leave the show to pursue other life stuff and I had to figure out how to keep it going. With no co host to rely on, I decided to go with artist interviews and it was really the shot in the arm that the podcast needed. Hearing different artists stories is fascinating and the DAS podcast covers a lot of artists that other art podcasts don’t. While it’s not exclusively dark artists who are interviewed, it is mostly dark artists, because I feel like we tend to get pushed to the margins. So this podcast is a place where they are taken seriously. The original idea with the Dark Art Society was to educate the general public about Dark Art. What better way than to interview the artists themselves?
Black Magick in the Valley of Death - Oil on canvas.
JG: Are there any artists from the past that you would have liked to interview?
CZ: Beksiński! Giger! There are too many to name but those are the two big ones that come to mind.
JG: Your work has inspired a wide variety of artists, and can often be seen in the style and techniques used. What artists inspired your work the most?
CZ: There are a lot...a LOT...that have inspired me over the years but the big three for me are Frazetta, Beksinski and Giger. They came into my consciousness at crucial points in my life so I will always have a soft spot for them.
Worried Creep - Urethane Sculpture and oil paint.
JG: Aside from painting styles or techniques, what artists do you admire based on imagination alone?
CZ: I’m on a big Dos Diablos kick lately. I love the freedom to get weird that he has. I’m also really digging Vanessa Lemen. I think it’s artists who are looser and freer than I tend to be. I admire that and want to go there more in my own work.
JG: Last one, when future generations look back on this dark art movement, at this current time, what one thing do you hope they learn from it?
CZ: Don’t be afraid of the dark.
The Hungry Ghost of Blood Castle - Oil on canvas.
To see more of Chet’s work, be sure to check out his website, support him on Patreon and follow him on Instagram. You can learn more about the Dark Art Society and how you can contribute, and listen to the latest episode of the Dark Art Society Podcast. See Chet's latest solo show at the Beinart Gallery, The Administrators.
This interview was written by Josh G from Creep Machine for the Beinart Gallery in November 2019.
Josh G works in social media and marketing during the day, and in his free time is an art historian with a focus on lowbrow, pop surrealism, and dark art. He started the Creep Machine art site in 2007, has curated a handful of shows, and is dedicated to empowering artists with technology.
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Making terrific work is one thing. Getting it out into the world where people can see, enjoy and possibly buy it is quite another. Regardless of personality or confidence level, many artists find this particular aspect of building a fine art career daunting, frustrating and downright mystifying.
After over 25 years in the arts, as a gallerist, consultant, author and educator, I can tell you sincerely and with confidence, my number one piece of advice is to KEEP AT IT! Make great work, make better work, make time to not just create your work but also work on your career. If you’re committed and proactive and keep on knocking, opportunity will eventually answer its door! It may not look exactly like what you expected. But I believe you will find your audience and your way. And while you’re keeping at it, I can offer you some tips that will hopefully help you navigate, and streamline, the process.
]]>Single Fare 2: Please Swipe Again opening at Sloan Fine Art in 2011.
Making terrific work is one thing. Getting it out into the world where people can see, enjoy and possibly buy it is quite another. Regardless of personality or confidence level, many artists find this particular aspect of building a fine art career daunting, frustrating and downright mystifying.
After over 25 years in the arts, as a gallerist, consultant, author and educator, I can tell you sincerely and with confidence, my number one piece of advice is to KEEP AT IT! Make great work, make better work, make time to not just create your work but also work on your career. If you’re committed and proactive and keep on knocking, opportunity will eventually answer its door! It may not look exactly like what you expected. But I believe you will find your audience and your way. And while you’re keeping at it, I can offer you some tips that will hopefully help you navigate, and streamline, the process.
This article was written by Alix Sloan from Sloan Fine Art.
Sloan Fine Art at Art Palm Springs 2018. Featuring John Abrams, Eric Finzi, Michael Malizia, Aaron Smith and Brad Woodfin.
The first step is putting yourself and your work out there. Thoughtful, personal, professional submissions are more likely to be successful.
Another photo from Single Fare 2: Please Swipe Again at Sloan Fine Art in 2011.
I hope your very first submission is met with an invitation to exhibit. But what if you don’t hear back, or worse yet, your dream gallery says no?
Inside Sloan Fine Art during the opening of Single Fare 2: Please Swipe Again in 2011.
Submitting your work to galleries is one way you can proactively pursue opportunity. But it isn’t the only way.
I hope you found these tips helpful. Now get to work making that list!
Alix Sloan celebrating the release of her book, Launching Your Art Career: A Practical Guide for Artists.
Alix Sloan was the director of the La Luz de Jesus Gallery in Los Angeles and an independent curator, before opening her own gallery, Sloan Fine Art in New York in 2008. In 2012, she transitioned Sloan Fine Art to a nomadic gallery format and has been putting on shows and participating in art fairs all over the US ever since. She also teaches Business of Art classes online and in person and manages a website called “Practical Advice for Artists” which includes a blog, online courses and links to additional resources. Her book, Launching Your Art Career: A Practical Guide for Artists, is available from Amazon.
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The sculptures of QimmyShimmy are playful juxtapositions of the ordinary with the extraordinary: the delightful (or at least neutral) with the provocative. From a “candy” dispenser that offers babies’ heads to a rice steamer holding human hearts, her work asks us to consider what we find appealing and how divorcing parts of our body from our body as a whole can impact how we see each other as fellow human beings.
]]>The sculptures of QimmyShimmy are playful juxtapositions of the ordinary with the extraordinary: the delightful (or at least neutral) with the provocative. From a “candy” dispenser that offers babies’ heads to a rice steamer holding human hearts, her work asks us to consider what we find appealing and how divorcing parts of our body from our body as a whole can impact how we see each other as fellow human beings.
A negative response is also a valid response…. All my friends know how much I enjoy reading hate comments, especially when they offer a different, more interesting perspective. I would rather make art that people can love or hate than make something that nobody ever talks about. —QimmyShimmy
QimmyShimmy's solo show, A Little Heart, opens at Beinart Gallery on November 7th, 6-9pm and will be on view from September 8th to September 29th.
See available sculptures by QimmyShimmy.
Char Siew Bao 叉烧包 - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy.
Julie Antolick Winters: I have read that you are interested in “creating a balance between the beautiful and grotesque, and making something that one finds desirable yet repulsive at the same time.” What do you find valuable in eliciting this response from those who experience your art?
QimmyShimmy: Dualities are what makes life and people interesting! I have always been intrigued by taste—why do we desire certain things and shun others, and where do we draw the line between what we find beautiful and what we do not? People who look at my art often tell me, “This looks disgusting but I kind of want to eat it.” I think it is about making my viewers feel that friction and discomfort, and seeing how far and in how many ways can I push these boundaries.
Birth/Death - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy. 2017
JAW: You gained a pretty large Instagram following early in your career. What do you feel draws people to your work?
Q: A wild guess is that everyone is a little strange inside, whether they choose to embrace it or not. My works infuse humour into the everyday (albeit on the darker side!), making the mundane curious and entertaining. I work mostly with familiar subjects and imagery, which make my sculptures quite relatable to most. As much as I hate to admit this, my works are quite visceral and not difficult to understand.
Hun Tun 馄饨 - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy.
JAW: Images of certain pieces of yours have gone viral and even been misrepresented as depicting edible items. Do you suppose that this arises from genuine misunderstanding or willful deception, and how do you combat this sort of thing?
Q: We all know that the Internet is a place with a lot of noise and very little [truth]. Many of these articles were written to be clickbait, with zero intention to value the work as a piece of art or to credit me as its creator. It gets frustrating only when people believe these articles and email me to make “bulk orders.”
I do not think I have developed any sort of defence mechanism against this just yet, but it helps that I do not take [such articles] too seriously. I just laugh it off and hope the news does not spiral out of control. It helps that news on the Internet never stays new. I usually just wait it out and in a few days, people will be talking about the next viral thing.
Happy Pills - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy. 2018.
JAW: I have learned that some people react very negatively to your art. What is it that they might be missing that you wish they would see? Or, differently put, how do you approach that kind of feedback?
Q: A negative response is also a valid response, so I think they are not missing anything at all. All my friends know how much I enjoy reading hate comments, especially when they offer a different, more interesting perspective. I would rather make art that people can love or hate than make something that nobody ever talks about. When I create my sculptures, I do not have the intention to please anyone, [much less] everyone. I attribute my “thick skin” to growing up with very critical Asian parenting, so negativity does not really affect me or my sense of self-worth (the effects of tough love, you see!).
Dan Ta 蛋挞 - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy.
JAW: Please describe a bit the physical process of creating your sculptures.
Q: I work with familiar everyday imagery, so naturally I seek inspiration from everyday things—food, packaging, supermarkets, household appliances. The ideas for all my works come from doing something ordinary, like grocery shopping or having a meal in a local eatery. Once the idea strikes and it comes to execution, I can be quite an obsessive planner. I create my works in a series, and I want all of them to be cohesive, so there will be a period of time I put into sourcing for the right materials before I start sculpting.
Decadence - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy. 2018.
JAW: For sculptures including human organs, what kinds of references, if any, do you use to ensure anatomic correctness?
Q: I do have a pretty solid collection of anatomical books, although I rely mostly on Google. The downside to printed or online references is that you only see the images in 2D, which does not really help sculpting unless you put in the effort to piece different images together.
I don’t think anatomic correctness is my eventual goal, though. I do try to get the textures and colours right, but my sculptures are often simplified, stylised versions of the real thing.
Ma Cherie - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy. 2018.
JAW: Who inspires you artistically, or whose work do you generally admire?
Q: Wow, this is really tough to answer! I admire so many artists, writers, storytellers and illustrators that it will be difficult to just name a few. I spent many after-school hours in graphic bookstores looking at Juxtapoz, Hi-Fructose and Beautiful Bizarre, magazines which helped me discover the genre of pop surrealism and my love for Mark Ryden, whom today I credit as one of my biggest influences and inspirations. When I was doing art history in school, the surrealism movement resonated with me most. I love the works of René Magritte and Salvador Dali. I like works that are dark, melancholic, fantastical, bizarre and a little creepy.
Sweet Child O’ Mine - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy. 2018.
JAW: When you were based in the Netherlands a few years ago, you were very selective about which pieces you sold and about not shipping your work out. Do you still maintain these practices, or have you widened your stance regarding sales?
Q: I am generally quite paranoid about shipping my works. I hate to live this artist stereotype but I really dislike administrative and logistical matters, and shipping work entails so much of that. All my works are unique, so I cannot just recreate them if they get lost of damaged in transit. Imagine having to deal with the guilt towards a hopeful collector/buyer, above already feeling heartbroken from the loss. Because I do not depend on my art to support my own living, selling is not a huge priority for me. I can be quite picky with who I sell my art to.
Jiao Zi 饺子 - Mixed media & polymer clay by QimmyShimmy.
JAW: In a very real sense, human body parts are commodified in your works: a cake is decorated with breasts, or a tin opens to reveal baby legs laid together like small fishes, ready for eating. I know that this reflects in part your observation that certain body parts that are typically considered attractive become unattractive when not attached to the body anymore; you have cited hair as an example of this. But in your sculptures of body parts, are there meanings you hope that viewers will dig a little deeper to grasp?
Q: People are always digging for a deeper meaning, and that is great! I have had emails and direct messages from people asking me if I am pro-choice/pro-life, [or about] my religion and political stance. Of course there are creepier and more personal questions, too.
I avoid answering questions on the deeper meanings behind my work, because I believe that there is no wrong definition until I reveal mine. It is good that my works provide enough room for multiple interpretations. I would rather my works be an open dialogue between people who look at my work and see something that I do not.
Gumball - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy. 2017.
JAW: In what ways would you say you have grown as an artist over the last couple of years?
Q: For the past few years I have done various stints and studies abroad which really helped expose my work to a more international audience. Despite sculpting on and off for years, I never properly discovered my style or artistic voice until I left Singapore for my studies in the Netherlands. Being abroad with fewer commitments meant I had more time to explore my art practice. But more importantly, I received a lot of support from curators who saw potential in my works and pushed me to create.
Within two years, I had two solo shows in the Netherlands and Italy, took part in a Biennale in Portugal and participated in a few group shows in the USA and Australia. Having real platforms to showcase my works made me realise that my sculptures are recognised as art, and I am not just someone “making strange things on Instagram.”
JAW: I understand that creating sculptures is something you do in addition to having a full-time job. What kinds of challenges does your job present for creating art?
Q: I work as a UX designer full-time. As much as it is creative work, it is not creative in a way an artist creates. Experience design combines user research and best practice—skills and processes that are on a whole different spectrum. The biggest challenge [is] trying to balance and commit to both practices that I care a lot about. It is not only about having enough time for both, but they require very different mind spaces to do well, and I still find it difficult to make the switch quickly. I wish I could split myself into two sometimes.
How are Babies Born? - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy. 2017.
JAW: Your upcoming show at Beinart Gallery is a series incorporating traditional Chinese dishes. Tell us about the genesis of this series.
Q: This series is my personal twist on Dim sum (点心), which is a style of Chinese cuisine that is quite well known around the world (even among non-Chinese communities). The series started as a reaction to the common taunt that “Chinese people eat everything” and questions why a cuisine that has millennia of history and craft is rarely associated with elegance and beauty in cultures outside its own.
Living abroad in a whole different environment really helps to define one’s roots. I have been really lucky living in the Netherlands, where people are quite open-minded and genuinely curious about cultures outside their own. I think that curiosity really pushed me to conceptualise this series, but I was not able to realise it until I came back home. It is my first show combining food, personal memory and culture.
Xiao Long Bao 小笼包 - Mixed media and polymer clay by QimmyShimmy.
JAW: What else do you have coming up that you would like to make sure our readers know about?
Q: More things are definitely coming! I will be doing a couple more shows this year and the next, but of course they will be pretty spread out due to my day job commitments. A lot of people have been asking if I will sell my works through my website, but the short answer is not anytime soon. I do not have the capacity to do this for now and prefer to focus my energy on shows and building my practice. It is definitely something I will consider in the future, though! For now, support this show, love more art and have more dim sum!
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in August 2019.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
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La Boucle D'or - Oil painting by Bruno Pontiroli.
For most artists, having a solid social media presence is an integral part of their promotional efforts. It’s a great way to grow a fanbase, interact with those fans, and even build up some connections with collectors. There’ve been quite a few artists who have quit their day jobs and been able to make art full-time due to the opportunities social media presented. However, no matter how many great things can be said about social media, it’s not free from issues: ever-changing algorithms, work being shared without credit, and, the one that concerns me the most, being reliant on a service that ultimately answers to their investors as opposed to their users.
Social media may evolve in new ways that make it easier for artists, or someone may step up and create a social media platform by artists for artists (fingers crossed), but for the time being, learning how to make it work for you no matter how much it feels like it works against you is the goal of this article. Hopefully the tips and tricks featured here can help you crank your social media game to 11 and not have to feel like you’re compromising too much in the process. Each section will focus on a major theme; this way, if you want to refer back to this article you can easily find the section you feel you need more help with.
This article was written by Josh G from Creep Machine in August 2019.
Jana Brike with one of her paintings.
One of the most common things I hear about an artist’s social media account is how big their following may be. This also comes up when artists talk about Instagram, for example, not allowing all of their followers to see what they post. While it’s true that it’s harder than ever to get as many of your followers to see your posts as it used to be, there are a few reasons for this that I feel we should talk about first.
When Instagram was first taking off, having a high number of likes/comments in relation to your following wasn’t that hard to achieve, and it worked similarly to artist pages on Facebook. The growth was amazing, and this was also the time when many artists were able to truly take their art careers into their own hands. This was also around the time when Instagram’s feed was chronological.
Now I'm going to say something a bit controversial: the chronological feed (no matter how great it was) would not work with the way Instagram has grown. The simple fact is that Instagram has changed too much. More companies have profiles now, there are more ads, users follow more accounts than they previously did, and users are logging into the app less than they previously did. According to the latest stats; 95+ million posts are uploaded daily, 500 million stories are used daily, and users under 25 use the app 32 minutes per day, while users 25 and older use it for 24 minutes per day on average. The amount of imagery to sift through is just too large to see in a chronological manner. Users would need to spend hours a day to see your posts in the feed. It would be a constant fight to figure out the best time to post based on the location of your followers, and how do you even figure this out with the whole world using social media now? This is why the algorithm, with all its faults, is a solution to this issue (gnashed-teeth solution at best).
Under The Skin - Porcelain sculpture by Johnson Tsang.
The trick is learning how to work with the algorithm on social media as opposed to fighting against it. While it used to be easier to get likes/comments even if you uploaded a photo of your brunch or cat, or your cat eating brunch, it’s now the posts that are the most compelling that get all the attention. If you’re lucky, maybe it’s your brunch-eating-cat pics that work for you. I’ve heard this referred to as a popularity contest, but this idea is really not that uncommon. Neither music, art, films, nor even restaurants have ever been on an even playing field. The ones that are consistent, cohesive, and not just “phoning it in” will do the best. I know that to an artist, marketing can often feel like taking nasty medicine, but it’s the ones who use social media to its fullest—have fun while doing it—who will see their efforts rewarded.
The last bit is about the follower counts. Whether you have 5,000 or 500,000 followers, not all followings are the same. Many of your followers might not log in often, many may have abandoned the platform altogether, and many may have curated their feeds with their likes/comments to show them posts that just might not include what you’re sharing. I know it may feel like a big gesture to follow an account, but it’s really just the click of a button. This is why it’s important to focus on the followers that are going out of their way to like, comment, and make sure they see what you post. Basically, don’t waste time struggling to get that following number larger when that time could be used to cultivate and strengthen relationships with the followers that are right in front of you. Quality not quantity, as they say.
All We Ever Wanted - Oil painting by Shaun Tan.
Ok, now on to the good stuff. Whether it’s Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest, Twitter, or Tumblr, content is king. I firmly believe there’s an audience for everyone; the trick is finding that audience and creating a community for them. It’s great stories, imagery, and iconography that lay the groundwork for a passionate fanbase. Keep this in mind whenever you make a new post. Make sure every image and video you post is crisp and clear and represents the content well. If it doesn’t contribute to the story you’re trying to share, it’s not worth sharing. Engaging posts are also more likely to be liked, commented on, shared, and have fans tags their friends in the comments. I know it may feel like a struggle to post daily when you might not have new work to share, but this doesn’t mean you should share something just for the sake of sharing.
As an artist you’re loaded with great imagery to share. Finished works, gallery shows, studio shots, images of works-in-progress (fans love these), varnishing videos, sketches, life drawing events, collaborations, ask-me-anything posts, technique and tip posts, and on and on. There’s always something to share, as long as it’s relevant to you and your story as an artist.
Joshua Smith with one of his miniatures. Photo by Andrew Beveridge.
One of the complaints I hear frequently is, “Every time I post a pic of my face (or animal companion), I lose followers.” This can be confusing, as you want to share parts of your life and other artists may have great success with this, but your selfies and pet posts aren’t doing well when you share them. This goes back to that idea that not all followings are the same, and for some followers these types of posts may look out of place and won’t come across as contributing positively to the story you’re telling. Honestly, consider it a good thing that your followers may want to see more of your art than anything else. In the context of the average follower (especially new ones), off-topic posts in your feed may seem as out of place as a musician sharing a pic during their latest dental appointment. A follower may think, “Okay, cool, but why am I looking at this, and what does it have to do with your music?” Now, if you want your selfies and pet pics to be a part of your overall story, then make sure they’re connected to that overall story, stylised and filtered in a similar manner, and easily recognisable as your content. I suggest looking at profiles that pull this off well and analyse what they’re doing. I don’t want to discourage sharing more personal parts of your life if that’s what you want to do, but in order to make sure the images make sense to your current and new fans, these types of photos will need to be run through the same pre-post check that all your images should be run through. Ask yourself questions like the following. 1. Am I happy with the quality and content of this image? 2. Does it contribute positively to the story I am trying to tell? 3. Does this image encourage interaction? Each image doesn’t have to check off all of your points, but the more, the better.
WIP Pencil drawing by Miles Johnston.
For Facebook and Instagram especially, posting videos can be a great way to give your feed some more life and variety. Videos allow your fans an opportunity to see your working process, get behind-the-scenes looks at how you varnish a painting, or even see the opening night of your latest solo show. For those artists that create 3-dimensional art, videos can offer fans a view of the artwork that’s more representational than a still photo would be. The main considerations for videos are that they should be crisp and clear (use a tripod if needed), that they don’t have too much downtime (as allowed video time is short), and that each video gets right to the point when a fan clicks “play.” One way to entice fans into viewing a video is to make sure that the cover photo for the video is engaging and relevant. If your video is about a new painting you made, show the best still of the painting for that cover photo. Don’t worry too much about giving away the best part of the video in the cover photo, as it may be the one thing that encourages them to watch it. (For Instagram, changing the cover photo is done right before posting.)
Stories, first seen on apps like Snapchat, are now widely used on Facebook and Instagram. They’re a great way to quickly share something with your fans and can often take the place of something you would otherwise have shared in a normal post. Time-sensitive events like shows, auctions, gallery walkthroughs, and Q&A sessions are all perfect story material. Too often I see artists using stories to share imagery they wouldn't share on their normal feed (pets, food, memes, etc.), but this is a missed opportunity. Stories don’t work the same way regular posts do, and if you have 10,000 followers or more on Instagram, stories allow you to link directly to whatever you want, such as a new print release. Think of stories as another tool at your disposal, one that’s quick and not subject to the non-chronological feed (on Instagram).
Ceramic sculpture by Ronit Baranga and her cat, Louie.
On most social media platforms, like Facebook, Twitter, or Tumblr, you can post multiple images in a gallery style format, but on Instagram multiple-image posts are presented in slideshows. The power of slideshows is that you can use them to showcase your products in a more compelling way. I’m sure most of you reading this have shared a print you have for sale and that post not getting many likes or comments. Well, it seems like a lot of social media followers treat most product posts like any other. Maybe it’s marketing fatigue; who knows? To try and combat this, create a slideshow and share a close-up and compelling shot of your print first, and then in the consecutive slideshow images show more details leading up to the last image of the full print. Fans that are likely to be interested in buying a print are most likely the same fans that will take the time to swipe through your full slideshows. Remember, just like the cover photo for videos, the first image in a slideshow should grab their attention. This idea is also helpful when it comes to work-in-progress shots. I see many artists creating multiple posts of the same work with just a little bit of progress each time. Instead, share those step by steps in a story and then post a slideshow with the finished work first and a few work-in-progress shots on the following slides.
Martin Wittfooth painting in his studio with his dogs.
As I mentioned earlier, social media has some downsides. Posts being shared without credit and outright theft are major drawbacks. One clever way to help combat this, and create a nice overall feel for your feed, is to create scenes for your works. Instead of showing the art perfectly cropped and print-ready, set up a little scene to photograph instead. This way you can share prints, enamel pins, sketchbooks, and more and give your feed a unique touch while protecting your work at the same time. Here’s an example post from Medusa Dollmaker. In this image she shares her latest sketch, fills the scene with items that are relevant to her and her work, and notice that business card? What a great way to watermark your art post without a big garish standard-looking watermark. It’s a compelling image, still showcases the drawing, and would be hard to steal to sell as a knockoff, and if someone shares it without credit, her name is right there in a place that’s hard to crop out. Fancy-looking images and security in one go.
Vanitas No.1 - Oil painting by Beau White.
Effective use of hashtags is one of the biggest contributing factors to your posts being found by others. When people see a post they like, hashtags are a great way to find similar content and stumble upon new things. There’s this idea that using as many hashtags as you can is the best way to go; however, research has shown that the magic number is 11. Thank you, Nigel Tufnel. The maximum for Instagram is 30, but at that point I think the likelihood of using irrelevant tags goes up.
So, which hashtags to use? Generally, I see artists using the most popular hashtags they can, and this would seem like a good idea, as these popular tags are where people are looking for art, right? Well, as it turns out, using the most popular tags is a lot like yelling your name at a music festival and wondering why no one knows who you are. There’re just too many results, so your work disappears fast. #art, for example, has over 500 million results, and the popular #artistsoninstagram has over 20 million. Ideally, you should use a mixture of hashtags in the hundreds of thousands, thousands, and even a few in the hundreds. Use them as if you’re trying to shine a laser pointer on your fans that were at that music festival. So, if you create surreal art, use #surrealartwork (19,000 results), but then also what medium you use, e.g., #oilpainting, #oilpaints, #oilsoncanvas.
The idea here is that you’re trying to connect with those anonymous users that just so happen to be looking for art in your style, medium, or location (#australianart). Relevant tags are always the way to go. There’s nothing worse for users than hashtag hijacking: looking for portrait art and finding a bunch of images of sunsets. WTF?
You can also create your own hashtags. Let’s say no one has ever used #burritopainting. I can decide to start using it because I want to own that tag. Others might start using it as well, and now you’re in the mix of people using this newly popular tag.
Always make it a point to switch up your tags. Keep them fresh, and don’t just copy and paste the same block of tags over and over for each post: this can be seen as spamming, and you might end up teaching the algorithms to work against you.
Snake Gardener with Orrery - Oil painting by Adrian Cox.
Consistency is key, as they say, and with posting this is very important. With the algorithms mentioned above, well-performing profiles will be seen more often by more fans. You don’t need to post like crazy, but you also don’t want to skip too much time without making a post. When I first started I posted every 4 hours, but now I post about 1 or 2 times per day. Monitor your engagement (likes, comments, and shares) and see how long a post has been up before it starts to slow down. This will give you an idea of what your personal frequency should be. It could be every 4 hours, maybe every 8 hours, or it might even work with your profile to post every other day or so. The idea is to not post images too close to each other in time, as this might negatively impact the engagement of the first or second post.m You want time for that one post to get a good amount of engagement. I like to think of it as letting the post simmer a while. If a post is really getting a lot of engagement I will let it simmer even longer, and the opposite is true with poorly performing posts. If I post something that’s not doing well at all, within a reasonable time frame, I post another image I feel will boost my overall engagement back up. I’ll write more on this below. Also keep in mind that if you do want to schedule posts related to timed contests, they won’t work the same anymore, as the feed is not chronological: your fans may see posts that look new but are really 14+ hours old. I’ve missed a lot of contests this way; use stories instead.
With Instagram's latest update it is now possible for fans to mute your profile without unfollowing you, just like Facebook allows. Not only does this mean your total number of followers is even less relevant, but it also means that posting too frequently could result in you being muted by a bunch of your followers. Let those posts simmer..
The easiest way to monitor your posts, and get them all scheduled, is to use a third-party app. The one I use most is Buffer, but Later App works as well. You schedule your posts from the desktop admin panel, or mobile app, and then you can send the posts to your Instagram account like magic. Direct posting. The free version of the app lets you connect to one account, and you get multiple free posts per day, so the free account is good for each month.
Finally, if you’re using Instagram and have a business account, you can see the analytics of your account: where your followers are, how many fans you’ve gained in the last week, and what the best times to post are. Pay attention to this and try to follow it as best you can. It will change over time, but this is a good way to predict when your post will do the best.
Primate Directive - Oil painting by Chris Leib.
I’m sure everyone reading this has seen this scenario roll out: you post an image and it doesn’t do that well, so you post another one, and that one doesn’t do well. Now, what do you do? Post more, post less, freak out? Surely these poorly performing posts will make it even harder for your posts to be seen, right?
In the beginning of building my profile, I noticed that some images I posted did well, and they did well each time I posted them. Was it the artist, or the content, or the theme? So I tested this, and turns out it’s a mixture of all of these. The important lesson I learned was that some types of images do better at first than others, and they generally continue to do so. So whenever I had a string of posts that didn’t do well, I would post one of these “booster images,” as I began calling them: images that were highly likely to get my fanbase excited again and liking and commenting like crazy. These images are like adrenaline shots for your profile, but just like being jabbed with a needle, you shouldn't do it too often. You don’t want to use the same images over and over and too frequently. I’m a big fan for sharing images more than once— you’re an artist, after all, and your art is worth sharing multiple times—but you want to use booster images sparingly. You may be asking, why not post all booster type images all the time? I mean, if they work, why not go crazy? Well, there’s a possibility your fans will get used to them, become desensitised, and expect them to be there, and you’ll then have nothing to fall back on when things are slow.
Look back at your feed and see what works. Your fans are telling you with their likes and comments what they like. So, if your selfies don’t do well, looking at multiple selfie posts will clearly show you this. Scan through and look for your booster images. Maybe it’s a shot of your studio, a work in progress shot, or even a pic of your cat next to your brushes. These are your booster images, and they should vary as well. Don’t always use the same cat-next-to-brushes pics: switch them up. Booster images are also great for ideation. Maybe that cat is now staring at a clay sculpture of itself. Have fun, and remember that these images are first and foremost the types of images that are truly telling your story as an artist in the loudest voice possible.
The Sea - Oil paintings by Scott Listfield.
I hope this article helps and makes the promotional craziness known as social media a bit more fun sounding. It’s a lot of work for sure, but in my opinion, it’s one of the most exciting things to happen to the art world for a long time. Fans get to see art being made, see art shows in other parts of the world, and see street art that was removed days later but now lives on in images or videos. Most importantly, social media allows you to at least take control of your future a bit more and connect with fans all over the world. Hopefully these tips will help you, but remember that they are not a silver bullet. Every account and following is different, and you will need to experiment and see what works best for you. Test, keep track of what works, and more forward.
The last bit I want to leave you with is this: enjoy social media, but don’t rely on it as your sole method for getting your art into the world. Use stories to send fans to a mailing list, use a service like Linktree (free, by the way) to add multiple clickable links to your Instagram profile, and have your own website. I know it feels like home pages are a thing of the past, but your own website is your home base. It’s a place to store your work, archive it all (social media is rubbish at that), show off your interviews and gallery shows, and much more. A website also shows you’re serious, and looks a lot more professional than using your social media profile as your home base. Social media is kind of ephemeral in a way, as few fans are going to scroll back very far to see everything you’ve posted. Relying solely on social media puts you at the whim of the companies that run these platforms. Besides, making your art as easy to find as possible, it helps folks like me that just want to see it all and share it all.
Softspot - Sculpture by Chet Zar.
This article was written by Josh G from Creep Machine in August 2019. It was inspired by a recent interview with Josh on Chet Zar's Dark Art Society Podcast.
Josh G works in social media and marketing during the day, and in his free time is an art historian with a focus on lowbrow, pop surrealism, and dark art. He started the Creep Machine art site in 2007, has curated a handful of shows, and is dedicated to empowering artists with technology.
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Gerard Geer’s delicate sculptures capture his vivid imaginings of fantastical creatures literally down to the bone. By using a variety of animal bones and other natural materials, Geer creates the stuff of mythology while simultaneously giving his viewers an appreciation for the wonder and intricacies of the world we know. Geer’s latest series, Tidepool, explores a potential connection between land mammals and ocean creatures, in terms of both evolutionary features and the relationships among the creatures themselves. Tidepool just wrapped as Geer’s third solo show at the Beinart Gallery.
I want the viewers of my work to ask questions either of themselves, or of our society, about the ethics of how we treat animals and our environment. I hope that in using natural remains, my work instills a sense of wonder for the world around us, and a deeper connection to the cycles of nature. – Gerard Geer
See available sculptures by Gerard Geer.
Julie Antolick Winters: I know that you are self-taught, having first become interested in preserving animal bones when an animal your family had been caring for died. How did you go about exploring this type of preservation, and what inspired you to pursue it beyond this animal that you’d known?
Gerard Geer: When I first got started working with bone, I was doing a lot of experimentation, learning primarily through trial and error. I relied mostly on the natural processes of decay to do the bulk of the cleaning work for me and worked out a process of further cleaning that I later learned was called maceration. This involves soaking animal bone in water, allowing bacteria to break down remaining tissues and fats from within the bone. This process was one I came to on my own accord and one I would later learn more about through research both on the Internet through various blogs and in books in libraries.
I had found the process quite fascinating, and in me it ignited a spark to preserve and treasure the remains of animals I saw discarded. Upon completing my first creative piece (a wearable piece comprised of the bones I had cleaned), I quickly became aware of just how many animal carcasses were left discarded and ignored. I began noticing every roadkill body lying in the gutter, every baby bird that fell from the nest to the ground below, and I realised how often we collectively averted our eyes from them, pretended they weren’t there, or swept them aside. The first instance of this occurring for me was while walking home one day I saw a black garbage bag under some bushes in a park and felt a calling toward it. Inside were the broken-down remains of an animal that had been presumably hit by a car (it had a few broken bones) that appeared to have been collected in a bag and tossed aside. I immediately took it home to clean it up, and from this point I collected everything I found.
JAW: What is it that appeals to you about using animal bones as a medium?
GG: I have had a strong interest in anatomy since I was very young. Growing up I spent a lot of time out in the country, where we had family who had farms, and I would run around in the fields looking for bones everywhere I went. At the time I was mostly interested in the shapes and forms; I never really cleaned or collected anything but I would spend hours examining them and imagining how they worked underneath the skin and the muscles. Whenever we had chickens nesting on eggs, I would collect the ones that didn’t hatch and break them open to see how the animals had developed. I was very curious about the ways that life worked, how things grew, how they operated.
This interest took a change in direction once I began making works using bone. In making my first piece, which was a commemorative piece to honour and cherish the life of an animal I was close with, I wanted to make something beautiful from what remained of the body. I wanted to share the beauty of the natural skeleton and keep the parts as a memento of the connection we shared in life. I wanted to highlight the beautiful aesthetic of the bone, the texture, the subtle curves and shapes, and show the fragility of the internal structure. I also wanted to wear them as a reminder to those who saw the bones that the life of the animals around us was also fragile.
My use of bone in my artwork serves to provoke an emotional response in the viewer, to encourage an interest in the natural world, to trigger compassion and empathy, and to challenge our discomfort around the idea of mortality. I want the viewers of my work to ask questions either of themselves, or of our society, about the ethics of how we treat animals and our environment. I hope that in using natural remains, my work instills a sense of wonder for the world around us, and a deeper connection to the cycles of nature.
JAW: How do you source the specimens that you use in your work?
GG: The animal specimens that I work with come from a wide variety of places. Over the years I have established a lot of relationships with people from different fields to source animals. Most of the animals I work with are donated to me from vets, animals that have either died of natural causes or are euthanised for health reasons. Many animals donated to me are given to me by their owners when they pass, as they want something beautiful to come from their passing and would like them to be immortalised through my work. Some of the more exotic species I work with are donated from various zoos or I might receive their bodies as ‘waste’ from various taxidermists (who only use the skin). I get a lot of post-dissection animals from a number of universities, animals which have been used to teach vet anatomy students. All of the fish that I work with are natural deaths from the pet trade, and these are donated to me from a number of aquariums around Melbourne that I have established a relationship with. Occasionally I will buy or trade for animal specimens, provided that the causes of death sit within my personal belief system. I also work a lot with invasive animal species, such as cane toads, feral cats, foxes and common myna birds, which are captured and humanely euthanised for environmental protection.
I am very particular about the animals I work with and try to be as conscientious as possible with how I source them. I don’t kill animals to make my art, and I won’t work with anything that has been killed for that purpose. I have always tried to be as ethical as possible with how I obtain specimens, though I personally don’t like to use the word ‘ethical’ to describe my practises, as this can mean a lot of different things depending on who is interpreting the word. In the past, I refused to work with the remains of any animal that had been deliberately killed. Now, however, I consider the humane culling of invasive pest species (such as feral cats, foxes, cane toads and the common myna) as acceptable for my use, as I consider it necessary for protecting native biodiversity.
While initially I worked almost entirely with roadkill, I no longer work with it, in part because I no longer have the time and opportunity to collect it, but also because I am now able to source enough animal specimens to work without it.
JAW: You use bones from different animals to create skeletons of your own imaginary creatures; how do these creatures suggest themselves to you as you create or before you start?
GG: My creative processes come through in a variety of ways. Usually I will start with an idea of what general shapes I want to make, and then sift through hundreds of bones to find the pieces with the right shape and fit. Sometimes my ideas of the animal shape are influenced more by the feeling I want the creature to communicate. Starting with an emotion, I’ll move that into a pose, and then imagine the type of creature that would embody that pose. Other times, I will get a feel of a potential shape while playing with a handful of bones, and the piece will come together naturally. In any case, there is a large amount of play and experimentation involved, placing lots of pieces together to see what fits and what happens when it does. Often the major body shape will be loosely inspired by a naturally existing animal, or a mixture of multiple animals, though the bones used to create those shapes are usually from different animals.
My current collection, Tidepool, began taking shape while I was working on my last show, Bloom. As I was making large flowers I began playing around with some different shapes, repeating mouse pelvis bones around a bird pelvis. I began making this shape as something inspired by a lily, but as the shape evolved it transformed into something more like a cuttlefish. As I felt the shape transforming I took it apart and began remaking it, adding tentacles to front and elongating them somewhat, and as I was moving it around and exploring it, I began seeing it as a skull for a larger creature as I looked at it from different angles. As soon as I saw it change into a skull, I immediately could see what its body should look like.
JAW: Can you describe your process for creating an articulated bone sculpture?
GG: As touched on above, a large part of my creative process involves playing, putting lots of pieces together to see what works. Translating an idea from my mind into a sculptural piece can be challenging, as I prefer to work with bone in its natural shape and very rarely carve or alter the shape of the bone I work with, so finding the right pieces to fit the aesthetic can be a long process. My studio is set up for this—I have lots of shelves piled up with containers of cleaned animal bones, sorted roughly into species type or bone type (e.g., small birds or mice for species and tails or feet for bone type). While building a new articulated creature, I’ll often sort through hundreds of bones to find the right sized and proportioned pieces to suit the creature I’m making. When making multiple similar creatures, such as the creatures in Tidepool, I’ll often make lots of pairs of different sizes altogether so that I can go through these pre-paired pieces to find the right sized ones for each creature. I’m a very visual person—I like to be able to see all of the things I might want to work with all at the same time—so usually in the creative process every available centimeter of table space is covered in piles of bones organised by size and type.
Once I’ve arranged and sorted all the pieces I need to make the creatures, I then drill the bones and run armature wires through them for structural support. This also allows me to pose and position the bones repeatedly without the need for glues, until I am happy with the shape of the creature.
A theme that often pops up in my work is repetition. I really enjoy working with repetitious shapes and structures, as can be seen in lots of my floral work, which usually begin as semi-fractal-based patterns. I explore this a lot through play, and often the small experimental pieces I make become the seed from which a larger piece might grow.
JAW: What connection does your art have to you spiritually?
GG: In some ways I feel like my art is an accelerated version of natural cycles and evolution. Nature recycles everything: when something dies, it breaks down and is redistributed back into the system. Over millions of years, dead corals on the seafloor fossilise and become limestone cliffs; in the short term, a dead animal feeds insects and scavengers while fertilising the ground, allowing plants to take up the nutrients. The process of evolution is endlessly creative: each form of life continually exploring new ways of existing and changing, with each new generation slightly different from what came before it.
Through the various processes of my work, I feel like I participate directly in this cycle. In preparing a specimen for skeletonisation, I compost all the skin, flesh and tissues that I don’t use, which, in turn, fertilises my garden and helps grow the food in my vegetable patch. The meats and tissues that remain on the bone are removed by my colony of flesh-eating beetles, which, in turn, grow and prosper. Their excrement, along with any waste produced from cleaning the bones, is then also turned into fertiliser for my garden. The cleaned bones are then restructured and rearranged to form something new and different from what they once were.
My idea of spirituality is deeply tied to the cycle’s nature. The transformation of matter from one form into another is something that occurs constantly in an evolving system, and through my work I feel that I am participating directly in this process, albeit in a different way. I like to think of my work as a practise in alchemy, where I take something that has been one thing and transform it into something new. For me, the process of creation and transformation is my connection to that cycle.
JAW: What has been your biggest challenge in pursuing your art, either in terms of how viewers accepted it or in terms of the physical making of it?
GG: I would have to say that it was the social acceptance of my artistic practises that was the most challenging for me. When I first started making art using animal remains, most of the people around me were repelled a bit by the idea, mostly because of fears about hygiene and smell but also, I think, because the idea of working with death was off-putting for a lot of people. This challenge presented itself in a number of ways: finding spaces to work in, finding sources for specimens, finding spaces to display my work. I also found it quite difficult to talk to people about too. I think it took me a few years to find my own way of talking about what I do in a way that people could understand. For a long time, I felt like a weirdo whenever I spoke to someone I didn’t know about my interests, but over time as I developed both my confidence and vocabulary, I found that acceptance easier to obtain.
I do still face opposition on occasion, particularly whenever my work is shared in a new context. I find that people often make assumptions about the what, how and why of what I do; often these assumptions are based on an emotional reaction, and [they] often result in aggressive responses. Now, though, I welcome these reactions as an opportunity for both conversation and hopefully understanding.
JAW: Is there a particular message or thought that you wish viewers to come away with from experiencing your work?
GG: Through my work I aim to provoke a sense of wonder and intrigue for the viewer, I want to challenge their notions of what is, to [get them to] question what could be. I want them to ask whether the creatures I make might exist, to imagine the possibility that they might be real. While I don’t directly make statements about animal rights through my work, I don’t use terms like ‘ethically sourced’ when describing my work, as I want the viewer to question that on their own. While I source all the animals I work with as conscientiously as possible, and neither kill nor have animals killed for me to make my work, I do want the viewer to question what they consider an acceptable source of animal remains. I hope that when viewing my work people might consider their own impact on the animals around them. My sculptures highlight the complexity and fragility of animal life—one can see directly how tiny most of the bones I work with are, and [viewers] often recognise how easy they must be to break—and I hope that this inspires compassion and awareness in the viewers.
JAW: Can you describe how you’ve seen your work evolve through the years, from independent pieces and through the series you’ve undertaken?
GG: When I first started making sculptural works with bone, my pieces were a lot more simplistic. My earlier works were often a lot more anthropomorphic in design and shared less potential for anatomical realism. Over time I’ve developed my skills at capturing lifelike movement in my articulations, and my ability to make lifelike creatures in proportion has evolved too. Developing these techniques was a big influence in the gradual shift in my creative styles: as my work evolved, it became more naturalistic in terms of function, moving away from the anthropomorphic and into a more animalistic focus.
I think that the other major change my work has taken is the shift toward capturing the creatures I create in a snapshot of an environment. In my earlier works the creatures I made usually stood alone, whereas now I imagine the environment that they might live in and give them a place to inhabit. Fleshing out a world that my creatures might live in and building their habitats has in my eyes cemented their potential for being and creates a stronger sense that the creatures in my works might exist.
JAW: Tidepool, your latest series, takes us back to the oceans a bit from an evolutionary standpoint. Tell us about the germination of this idea.
GG: I’ve always been fascinated by ocean-based life and the bizarre creatures that dwell in the deep. But this fascination is also coupled with an intense fear of the open ocean and the vastness of this space. After making a number of skeletal jellyfish a few years back, I became quite obsessed with the idea of making a skeletal structure for an animal that wouldn’t have a skeleton. I’ve since made a number of ocean-inspired creatures, many of which I’ve left unfinished on the shelves in my studio, which I will at some point bring out into the light!
The idea for this collection of work came about last year while working toward Bloom, when a flower shape I was exploring became a cuttlefish, which then became octopus-like before becoming a skull. I describe the process like this: sometimes the things I am working on take on a life of their own; they move and shift and change throughout the creative process. As the piece became more skull-like, I began to get a sense of what the body of this creature might have looked like, how it might have behaved, how and where it might have evolved. The cephalopod-like features of the creature gave a sense of intelligence, of adaptability, of elasticity in terms of how it would relate to its environment. I imagined it living outside of the ocean but still closely connected to it somehow and that its environment would reflect this connection. The environment that I envisioned for this creature was something akin to a mangrove forest, where when the tide comes in it would be directly connected to the ocean, and as the tide goes out the mangroves are separate once again. Once I had a sense of the creature and its potential environment, I then formulated the relationships and the stories that I wanted the creatures to tell.
JAW: Your sculptures have led you to branch out into other areas: creating mementos for people whose pets have died and holding workshops to teach your skeletal articulation to others. How did these opportunities present themselves to you?
GG: When I first started showing my work, the majority of what I was making were wearable pieces. A number of these were made from a pet that was given to me from a friend, and of these pieces I had given one to her. Making custom work this way came about quite naturally; during the exhibition I had a number of people ask me to make something for them using their pets when they inevitably pass away. This was never something I actively had to seek out but was something that was more often asked of me. Over time, and as I developed my skill set, I decided to make natural articulation something I could offer to people wanting to preserve and cherish the remains of their pets.
Through sharing the work that I do, and from making a lot of wearable pieces, I soon realised that there was interest in learning how to do what I do but not many places to access the information. Throughout my own development, I had reached out to multiple taxidermists hoping for some kind of apprenticeship or training but was constantly rejected. Soon enough I had people reaching out to me wanting to learn how to clean bone, and not long afterward I was running roadkill taxidermy and bone preservation workshops in some strange places. My first one was at ConFest (a hippie camping festival in NSW) and then at various music festivals. It feels surreal to reflect that my workshops originated on the dirt floor of a crystal healing tent!!
A few years after running these workshops I wound up being introduced to Natalie Delaney of Rest In Pieces, and after a few years of friendship I eventually decided to join forces and write a skeletal articulation workshop to run under her banner. It made sense for myself, as I had been contacted by a lot of people wanting to learn this art form, and for Natalie as a natural extension of her business.
JAW: You’ve noted that a lot of the participants in your skeletal articulation workshops are women. Do you have any thoughts as to why more women than men gravitate toward these workshops?
GG: This is a really great question, and one that I have thought about a lot over the last few years. Before trying to get my thoughts on this out I think it’s important to acknowledge that I often consider and speak about skeletal articulation as under a broad umbrella of taxidermy – and will use the term ‘taxidermy’ to broadly describe works that utilise the remains of animals. While taxidermy specifically refers to the preservation of an animal’s skin in a lifelike manner, therefore excluding the use of skeletal remains, I prefer to use this term over others such as ‘animal art,’ as I feel it is more accurate and more readily understood.
One of the things that I talk about a lot during my workshops is that the use of animal remains as an art form is something that has been undergoing a revival (so to speak!) over the last decade or so, and this revival has been predominantly driven by women. When I think about the incorporation of taxidermy in art, the bulk of the artists that come to mind are women: Sarina Brewer, Jessica Joslin, Polly Morgan, Tessa Farmer, Brooke Weston, Julia De Ville, just to name a few. All of these artists reimagine the animals they work with in unique way and present them in unconventional manners to tell their stories. They have taken taxidermy out of the traditional context of the past—from museums, as hunting trophies, etc.—and bought a new life to the art of preservation by combining it with storytelling.
In the past, taxidermy has often been thought of as killing and stuffing an animal, whereas the contemporary taxidermy art movement places strong emphasis on the ethical sourcing of animals to work with and celebrates the lives of the animals through the works. This isn’t to say that there is a single, cohesive movement that all contemporary taxidermy umbrella artists are a collective part of but is an observation I’ve made over the years.
I think that the women who have paved the way in making this art form what it is today have opened up the door for those new to or interested in the field. Old stereotypes about who and what taxidermy is are changing, and it’s been argued that the contemporary taxidermy movement is inherently feminist. On top of this, Rest In Pieces (the company I run my workshops through) is a female-led company—as are most of the businesses and artists around the world that teach taxidermy workshops, as far as I am aware. Looking at the statistics from my Instagram and Facebook profiles, the majority of the people who follow me on these platforms are women, roughly 65% on both platforms combined. Through speaking with other taxidermists and bone artists, this seems to be a trend around the world right now.
JAW: I know that in addition to creating articulated bone sculptures, you process and sell diaphonized wet specimens. Do you see this as an extension of your artistic practise or something separate? Do you have any plans to combine your bone sculptures with diaphonized specimens?
GG: Diaphonization started out for me as a hobby, as a way of looking a little bit deeper into the anatomy of smaller animals without having to remove all the flesh. I love how accessible it makes anatomy, and for a lot of people it provides a window into the anatomy of an animal without the discomfort that often goes along with it. I’ve always seen it as something that sits alongside my creative practises; while the technique is definitely an art form, it is a technique nonetheless and there are limits as to what you can really do with it.
In saying this, I am working to push those limits of what can be done with the process. I have been experimenting a lot with various techniques over the years to try and create new colours for diaphonized specimens and have had some success in this regard. Last year I completed a ‘diaphonized rainbow’ which combined a lot of different colours, creating a spectrum across 8 juvenile rats. The bulk of the colours from this rainbow have (as far as I could tell from 2 years of research) never been made before, and the creation of this piece involved a lot of trial and error on top of loads of research! I even had to have certain chemical compounds manufactured for me to do this. It’s interesting to me as this process allows me to work a different kind of creativity, one driven entirely by science, where creativity comes first, and research and experimentation follow. Very different to my normal practises!
In the past, I have combined articulated creatures with diaphonized specimens; however, the challenge with this comes from the way that diaphonization works. A diaphonized specimen looks impressive and beautiful, because the liquid that it is stored and displayed in has the same light refractive index as the cleared tissue. What this means is that light is allowed to move through the liquid and the tissue at the same speed, creating the illusion of transparency. Once taken out of the solution, a perfectly cleared specimen loses its transparency, which detracts from the aesthetic. The piece where I had previously explored this was one I am happy with; however, in wanting to combine the two forms I would like to find a way to maintain this transparency much more effectively. Currently I am working on developing a technique to do this with a good friend of mine. In short, it effectively involves incorporating techniques used in plastination, so it is a slow and challenging process. I do have some plans for potential future works should we succeed!
JAW: While you originally started with no formal training, you eventually decided to pursue a degree in biological sciences. Have your studies led you to consider other pursuits, or do you see them as primarily a way to enhance your artistry?
GG: I decided to study biological sciences initially as a way to enhance my understanding of animal anatomy and the connections between animal and environment. My intention was to find ways to apply this knowledge to my own creature and habitat design primarily. What I found through studying was somewhat of a surprise to me: I realised I was more interested in plants and the environment that I had initially thought, and I also found a lot more passion in chemistry and biochemistry than I expected.
I am currently deferring from my course at the moment, having had to take time off from my third year of studies for both work commitments and some amazing opportunities that came up for me last year, and at the moment I am unsure when I will complete my studies. I am debating whether to go further down the biochemistry rabbit hole or whether to shift toward vet sciences. Both are incredibly appealing to me but more for the sake of curiosity than any particular end goal. In any case, though, I do feel that my time spent studying has definitely provided a lot of inspiration for my artistic work.
JAW: What do you see for yourself immediately ahead? And do you have any long-range goals for where you’d like to take your art?
GG: At the moment I’ve been really enjoying exploring working on a larger scale. The titular piece in Bloom was the largest-scale sculpture I had ever made, and I really enjoyed working on it. I have a few pieces planned at that same kind of scale, and I am hoping to continue making works that combine larger size with increased complexity. I am also working toward developing a new technique utilising diaphonization techniques and combining them with plastination techniques, to attempt to incorporate these practises within my artwork. This is likely a long-term goal, as there is a lot to develop before we get there. But I am very much enjoying the stressful chaos of innovating techniques and the collaborative process needed to make it happen.
Aside from this, I am hoping to continue building my connections with various institutions (such as universities, museums, zoos, etc.) so that I can utilise my skill set and artistic practises for public education. At the moment for me this happens on occasion, but I would like to eventually do more work in this sector. I am currently writing an intermediate skeletal articulation class for Rest In Pieces and am looking forward to facilitating many more classes in the future.
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in May 2019.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
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Breathe is the beautifully moving solo exhibition from Hieu Nguyen AKA kelogsloops at Beinart Gallery this May. There is no contained emotion, no holding back. Hieu introduces his figures with an energy that encapsulates the low hum you hear if you listen carefully enough. This low hum is not a foreign presence for Hieu, he embraces and seeks it in all his travels; in the music he hears, in the people he meets. If he could literally embrace the world he would, but because of that impossibility he finds a way to manifest that vision into his phenomenal creations.
]]>Inhale, Exhale - Watercolour, gouache, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper.
Breathe is the beautifully moving solo exhibition from Hieu Nguyen AKA kelogsloops at Beinart Gallery this May.
There is no contained emotion, no holding back. Hieu introduces his figures with an energy that encapsulates the low hum you hear if you listen carefully enough. This low hum is not a foreign presence for Hieu, he embraces and seeks it in all his travels; in the music he hears, in the people he meets. If he could literally embrace the world he would, but because of that impossibility he finds a way to manifest that vision into his phenomenal creations.
Hieu is an exception to the watercolour rules, his fluidity and ability to seize some level of control over the moving medium makes their form truly unique and kelogsloops recognisable. He balances an all out joy for life, crazy megaphone shouting, skateboarding down hills, jumping off things and learning how to backflip over an entire weekend just "because" with a sincere maturity of someone beyond his years, who has visited this place way too many times. Now, he just gets to play (albeit combined with some crazy working hours), knowing it's all about embracing every second as it unfolds.
The last two years have been intense ones, not many breaks and certainly the seizing of his catch phrase coming into fruition (Be Right Back Chasing Dreams) and now we finally get to see kelogsloops in Melbourne, his home town. This will be an especially momentous event that will finally have his friends, family and long time Australian fans see all his work in one place. When I spoke to Hieu (in the interview below), he said this is a significant show for him to be able to share with his Mum, a touching moment to share with Hieu for anyone that can make it to opening night on the 4th of May.
See available paintings by Hieu Nguyen AKA kelogsloops.
The Hiding Place - Watercolour, gouache, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper - 40.6 x 30.4cm (16"x12").
Kylie Dexter: There is so much depth and meaning that to goes into your preparations for a solo show. What was your inspiration for this solo exhibition "Breathe"?
Hieu Nguyen: Breathe came about because of a realisation I had late last year. It was at the end of a very intense period for me physically, emotionally and mentally; I was wrapping up working on my first mini-solo exhibition, "Flood" at Haven Gallery. Working on that show exhausted every resource that I had in me and I'd really burnt out by the end of it. In saying that, it was all worth it because it was such a huge achievement and I had the best time because of it.
But in retrospect, the only reason I was able to pull through what seemed impossible for me at the time was the support systems I had. Amongst all the chaos and struggle, the people that supported me allowed me to "breathe". It wasn't until after the show was over that I realised how important it was to actively find that moment of mental space throughout the chaos of it all. To know that things happen for a reason and that even though hell might break lose and everything might go upside down, things will just work out the way they're supposed to. So this show, Breathe is a reminder to myself, but also hopefully to those that see my work, that we have to remember to stop and breathe every once in a while.
Shelter - Watercolour, gouache, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper 50.8 x 40.6 cm (20"x16").
KD: There is a strong presence of familiars in these new pieces, they seem to be in a living connection with the figures. Could you describe their meaning and how they are linked to your inspiration?
H: In each of the paintings I wanted to create these "spaces of rest" for the figures to exist in and I imagined that these familiars were something akin to guardians. Protectors of some sort, that watch over that safe haven and keep it from being broken. They're familiars that are recognised as symbols of strength, for example, in some East-Asian cultures the tiger is generally synonymous with strength and resilience.
I think subconsciously those animals were representative of what my friends and family are to me - my support systems. They're symbols of strength to me because they were able to metaphorically create these spaces for me to breathe and continue to operate in. Without them, I don't think those spaces of rest would exist.
The Watcher - Watercolour, gouache, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper - 45.7 x 35.5cm (18"x14").
KD: You recently reached a huge milestone on Instagram, 1 Million followers! That must be mind blowing! Firstly, big congratulations and can you tell us what it means to you personally to have so many fans that engage with you and feel that they can relate to your work on this level.
H: Thank you!! It's been a very surreal past couple of weeks as I've been trying to let it sink in.
I was thinking about this the other day. The thought that there are THAT many people in the world who connect with my work is honestly a daunting one. At first there feels like a overwhelming sense of responsibility that comes with that - to be a role model of some sort and that I HAVE to do X and Y and to act or be a certain way. But I don't think it's like that at all with my fans. I realised that those people are just cheering me on along each step of the way and they're here for the journey.
There are heartfelt messages of congratulations with every achievement I make, there are words of encouragement and support with every struggle I face and there are people who are inspired by the things I challenge myself with. Everyone's so supportive that I don't feel this pressure to do anything that I don't want to do, so I can just really be myself, do what I enjoy and what I believe is right and people will still cheer me on.
Working in the creative industry there seems to be a fear that you carry along with you every step of the way. It's the uncertainty and fear of failure that cripples you at times but having this kind of support just keeps me going. I honestly feel so fortunate to have that kind of support. It's priceless, and I wouldn't trade it for anything.
Fall Apart - Watercolour, gouache, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper - 35.5 x 25.4cm (14"x10").
KD: Hieu, you are honestly one of the sincerest artists I have had the pleasure to know, how do you keep grounded in the chaos of preparing for a show of this size?
H: If I'm honest, I go into phases of "lockdown" when I'm working on something big like this. I'll usually put aside a few months where I became a hermit and just put stay in my studio for weeks on end painting and working. It's a bit hard to stay focussed and motivated for such a prolonged period of time, working on a single project, so I usually become a social recluse temporarily. It gets a bit extreme sometimes and is honestly probably a very unhealthy way to go about it (I wouldn't recommend it), but I think it's a good way for me to work personally because it keeps me focussed solely on the show.
A Moment to Rest - Watercolour, gouache, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper - 35.5 x 35.5cm (14"x14").
KD: This is your first solo exhibition in Australia, it must be particularly exciting because it's your home town of Melbourne, is this an important event for you and will we finally meet Mamma Hieu in person! She is YouTube famous in her own right now.
H: This is going to be one of the most memorable events of my LIFE and honestly, I'm probably going to cry at the opening night. To put it simply, my friends and family have never seen my work in person. I've only done shows overseas or interstate and so this will be the first time they get to see the stuff I do and we'll finally get to all celebrate something together!
Most importantly though, my mum has never seen what I do. She doesn't use or really understand social media, so she doesn't know about my following even after all these years. She supports what I do, but because she doesn't understand what I do, she's always just been concerned about my future. Hopefully there will be a lot of family, friends and fans there so she can at least understand to an extent the reach or effect of what I do. Once she sees this all, she might really be able to understand and not have to worry anymore. I want nothing more than to be able to put my mum's concerns to rest. I want her to be proud of what I do and to be able to point at a painting on the wall and say "my son made that!"
I think this show is so important to me because it's more than just my first Australian solo, it's the chance for me to say to my mum, "Mum, this is what I do. You don't have to worry about me anymore. I will be okay."
The Fall - Watercolour, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper - 28 x 20.3cm (11"x8").
KD: I would love to know who you admire as an artist and how does that influence your own work and ideas?
H: I could go on forever for who inspires me, but I am a very adamant and obsessive fan of Lois Van Baarle (Loish) and Silvia Pelissero (Agnes-Cecile). These artists have inspired me for such a long time and I still have so much respect and adoration for the incredible work they do. I think they influence my work mostly through the storytelling element of their work and the capacity to capture moods and the way they create meaningful compositions.
I think Silvia's work continues to inspire my ideas because of the emotional component in her work. Her paintings are raw, candid and often associated with vulnerability. You can almost feel her paintings, and that's always been a trait that I've admired and loved in her work.
On the other hand, Lois has inspired me not only through her beautiful and distinctive style, but through her work ethic and her passion. In my eyes, she just does what she loves and she's always stayed true to herself. That much shows through her work and it's something I've always admired. Her openness to sharing her experience, her love for art and her desire to teach is something I've always aspired to reflect in myself as an artist. I think her story alone has been very influential in inspiring me to go out and just do what I love. And her art? Oh I could go on about that for hours.
For this show specifically though, I was inspired a lot by a sudden obsession with Zhang Yimou's films. I recently re watched Yimou's wuxia films like Hero and House of Flying Daggers (see scene above). I'd watched them as a kid but as an adult, ohhh boy! The way he just seemingly paints a scene with colour or composes his shots and all the intricate details - every shot is just a visual orgasm. There's a specific scene that inspired a lot of the aesthetic for this show which is the scene from "Hero" where the character Moon fights Flying Snow in this forest. The scene is painted with falling yellow leaves. Specifically, this scene when they're both fighting mid-air. If you froze that frame right there, that's the one. It's the movement, the flow, the graceful swordplay that almost seems like a dance. He really is a genius.
The Rise - Watercolour, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper - 28 x 20.3cm (11"x8").
KD: BRB Chasing dreams is the inspiring way you speak of the way you live your life. Can you share what that phrase means for you, where it came from and how you still achieve that goal of aspiring higher and higher in each piece you create?
H: That phrase came from a conversation I had with a very close friend of mine back when I was still studying Physiotherapy. It was a time where I was really conflicted about what I was doing and what I wanted to do. I wanted to pursue my creative endeavours, but I was too afraid to make that leap of faith. I decided that I wanted to try and work on my art whilst studying Physiotherapy, in hopes that one day I could make my dreams come true, even if it meant taking baby steps by doing art on the side. I decided to commit all my spare time towards drawing and improving my work and told myself that if I could one day stand on my own two feet as an artist, then maybe there really was something worthwhile in my art. Maybe then, just maybe, I would give art my everything and really chase that dream. So, I told her in one of our texts, "brb, gonna go chase my dreams". That phrase never left me since. It became a mantra for me to live by, a reminder every day to keep on learning and challenging myself and to continue chasing my dreams with the intention of never stopping.
Even though a lot has changed and I quite literally am living the dream I sought to chase out those years ago, I've never lost sight of the desire to just keep on growing and challenging myself. I'm always trying new things and learning to improve my work. For example, I never drew animals or males, but look where we are now!
(WIP) - Watercolour, ink, pencil and gold leaf on Arches paper - 40.6 x 30.4cm (16"x12").
KD: You have an incredible group of friends and family that seem to keep you grounded. How have they all reacted to your success?
H: Funnily enough, my closest friends and family just kind of shrug it off nonchalantly. I think at this point they're all so normalised to each of my achievements that even major milestones are "oh cool, anyway" in our conversations. That's not to say they're not happy for me or that they don't care, it's just nothing new to them because they've been there for me from the beginning and they've cheered me on each step of the way. Every new height I reach is simply another step in their eyes. And honestly, I like it that way.
Here Come The Waterworks (2018) - Watercolour, ink, pencil and 21K gold leaf on Arches.
KD: Lastly, would love to know what you hope the viewers feel when seeing your work on opening night for the first time and do we have to get in line to talk to you?
H: The show is really a reminder for us to "breathe". Everyone has their own demons to face and struggles to fight, so I want nothing more but my work to just achieved a single moment of ease for them. If viewers can really feel just that, then my work has done its job! I hope that I walk around and all I hear is people collectively "breathing" or sighing so it sounds like a marathon was just run.
I never get to talk about my work because my friends are probably sick of me already and I don't have many art friends so this is the one night I get to talk about my work!
Inner Stream (2018) - Watercolour, ink, pencil and 21K gold leaf on Arches.
10 quick questions. GO
Favourite song right now?
Arcade Fire - Wake Up
What do you do to relax?
Put on my headphones and listen to music.
Favourite place on earth?
New York City
How much do you love your Mum?
TOO MUCH!!!!!!
Current Number 1 thing on your bucket list?
To see the cherry blossoms in Japan
Favourite movie?
The Secret Life of Walter Mitty
Most exciting news in the last 6 months?
I HAD A SOLO EXHIBITION!
One word that describes you?
Silly
One word your friends would use to describe you?
Crazy
Close your eyes for 30 seconds and tell me what you see!
I'm running along trail in a grassy field that keeps on going (kind of like the one in Mt Cook in New Zealand). It's just a huge open field that stretches forever.
kelogsloops “In My Own” – Painting process.
kelogsloops' solo exhibition, Breathe, opens on 4 May 2019 at Beinart Gallery in Brunswick, Victoria.
This interview was written by Kylie Dexter for Beinart Gallery in 2019.
Kylie Dexter is the former Deputy Editor of Australian based contemporary art publication - Beautiful Bizarre Magazine. Kylie is also an artist, making needle felt creations under the name Dolldrums Dolls. Her passion is art and she boasts a collection of epic proportions from Artists around the World.
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Go out to the garden, sneak under the ivy and listen ever so quietly for the whispers of echoes. Fear not these little creatures, for they have untold gifts within and timeless secrets drawing you into their world, a world that Mahlimae connected to when she was very young. These tiny beings whispered for her to bring them to life and now we can all share in their exquisite presence.
My favourite things are coming together this January, beinArt gallery and Nicole Watt aka Mahlimae, for her solo show Lost souls of the Erlking. The details of the King's story can’t go untold and we were lucky enough to have an in-depth chat with Nicole. We spoke about the origins of the story, the beginnings of her creations and delved into the journey of bringing this fable to life.
“For me, he is the harbinger of loss, the plunderer of innocence, the indistinct faceless predator concealed in each psyche. It was the capacity he holds for vampirizing innocence and twisting the child-like heart into a blinded thing whilst society turned away, that connected me with this character on a deeply personal level...I have met this creature before, many times.” —Mahlimae
Original art for sale by Mahlimae.
“Lost Child XI” -Mixed media sculpture. 12cm (4.7")
Kylie Dexter: We have to begin with The Erlking himself! When I first heard that you were going to base your solo show around this tale, I spent some time reading all the different versions of the fable and some of the poetry based on the original story. I would love to hear your interpretation of it and what connected you to its origins?
Mahlimae: There are indeed a great many tales recounted by elders over the centuries that revolve around an Erlking-like figure. Whilst his title has morphed and contorted many times through the years in poetry, musical compositions and in literature as recently as the 1980's, the spirit of the Erlking remains one to be feared. For some he is an omen of death, to others he mirrors a source of confinement and impending depredation. For me, he is the harbinger of loss, the plunderer of innocence, the indistinct faceless predator concealed in each psyche. It was the capacity he holds for vampirizing innocence and twisting the child-like heart into a blinded thing whilst society turned away, that connected me with this character on a deeply personal level...I have met this creature before, many times. In tangible terms, he was very difficult to conjure up emotionally, but also as his form is so fluid and completely open to artistic interpretation it seemed wrong to give him a recognisable anatomy. I won't say much more as hopefully his vision will speak more to this than I can at this stage.
“Lost Child I” -Mixed media sculpture. 14 cm (5.5”)
KD: You have been working so intensely on this show for almost the last year. How has the journey been so far? The creation process must have been an incredible one as I know it was important to you to honour the story and its characters.
M: Yes it has taken me over 12 months to prepare and create for this show and I know it sounds cliché, but it has been an incredibly cathartic experience. As I touch on in the next question, I needed to tell this story for my personal growth and healing. Each character within this exhibition from the gathering of lost children down to the tiny sleeping snail has a 'real world' face for me and as such, it was incredibly important to convey these souls and their unfortunate truth with honesty and in a way that accurately reflected my inner vision, rather than what I thought people would be expecting to see. Reconciling all those elements in my mind and coming to terms with the fact that there isn't a 'correct' way to tell a story was a major hurdle to overcome throughout the creative process but the process itself was well worth it.
“Erlking” - Mixed media sculpture. 42 cm (16.5”)
KD: The story is a dark one in origin, what draws you to explore these themes and to help bring them to life in such a honest way, I mean the innocence that the echoes hold allows us to move freely into the depth of those darker narratives.
M: Before making the change to creating art full time, I spent the majority of my professional life working with and advocating for our most vulnerable children in need of protection. Over the decade in that job, I encountered what I would consider the most evil of human beings, and in contrast, some of the purest of souls. It was through those experiences and my vicarious trauma, I came to feel like darkness was all around me and somewhere within that abyss I became lost. I lost my direction, my sense of self, my confidence and any hope in humanity. What ensued is a long and personal story but as that beautiful line from one of my favourite Roethke poems quotes "In a dark time, the eye begins to see". Once your mind's eye adjusts to that kind of darkness, even if it isn't a place you reside permanently any longer, it is inevitably easier to navigate your way around those depths and the narratives that take you back there. It is important to my healing and my sense of duty to those little ones I couldn't help, to let their light shine through the eyes of my Echoes so they may finally be given the acknowledgment they deserve. They will forever be my guide to grant me safe passage through the infinite night.
“Lost Child II” - Mixed media sculpture. 14 cm (5.5”)
KD: What do you hope the viewers will experience when meeting these works in person?
M: Ideally I would love for viewers to meet my work for the first time in a silent, dimly lit room, with nothing around to distract them from what they have to say. That's a near impossible ask, but I would hope that people could stand in front of this installation, take a deep breath, silence all the voices in their mind and connect to it in their own way. Whatever the result I am grateful people would take the time to come and view it in person.
“Sapling II” -Mixed media sculpture. 15cm (5.9")
KD: I know you have a deep connection with nature and of course your beautiful home where you are surrounded by it, in its most rugged form. Please do tell of the whispers and energy you get from your surroundings and your incredible studio and how it influences your work?
M: These whispers you speak of are definitely one of the two loudest guides in my life and my work but I would say one of the most difficult to articulate. I vividly recall the moment when my husband and I first stepped foot on our property here in Tasmania; there was something in the air that day which I felt in my bones and still do. This place, the groans of the trees, the chatter of the birds at dawn, the smell of the air, the vibrations under your feet if you walk barefoot on the moss...it is pure inspiration and speaks to me so clearly in a language I can't interpret for anyone in any way other than to create with it. There is a sign I read whilst walking in the Tarkine Forest in north-west Tasmania a few years ago, it reads "Deep in the forest the land holds many secrets, take care as you walk this land, remember that the spirits of the old people remain". Whilst my Echoes may host many stories, one of the consistent themes running through them is the sense of disconnect, of sadness and loss that I feel when I look from the outside in at the world we are becoming, the intuitive knowledge we are losing, and the skills our children are no longer observing and the deep connection with nature we have disfigured and twisted into servitude. I often wonder what those ancestral spirits would have to say about the way we are treating the Earth.
“The Hunted I” - Mixed media sculpture. 12cm (4.7")
KD: What do you think it is that makes so many people connect with your sculptures on such a deep level?
M: This is such a difficult question to answer and one I have asked myself so many times before. Perhaps the best way to start to understand why this is so perplexing for me is the knowledge that these Echoes are not actually something I set out designing with intent. There was little premeditation involved in their initial existence as they have been with me in some form or another since childhood; lurking in the corners of my imagination, my sketchbook, my stories. I had no sculptural experience before I decided to bring them to life in this way so they are very much instinctively formed from inner vision. Over time they have come to inhabit a deeper narrative, but overall I feel in some way they chose me, not the other way around. This is an incredibly humbling thought and the main reason I am floored when I receive a message or email from someone sharing with me their deeply personal experiences with my sculptures; it is truly astonishing for me. A common thread that seems to run through a lot of the feedback I have received from people is that my Echoes connect with some an intangible sense of home within, their eyes reflect a subtle familiarity, like a mirror to the world or ourselves...a feeling of belonging. I understand for some this would be confronting, but perhaps for many is it just enough to make them feel like they're not along in this world and some days that's all we need.
“Lost Child IV” - Mixed media sculpture. 14 cm (5.5”)
KD: I am so privileged to own some echo’s, some from their early beginnings to more from recent times. They have changed in character themselves, how do you think you as a human have changed over the last few years of this journey.
M: Trusting in my own instincts and vision as an artist has always been one of the most difficult things for me to grasp. The form of my work is and always has been outwardly simple, which has attracted both commendation and criticism. Yet it is this seemingly simple form which I feel imparts their complex vulnerability, an emotion further nuanced by the situation of the viewer. For me this is a unique capability I feel would be overshadowed and concealed by detail if they were any other way. Learning to eloquently balance an intricate story housed within an uncomplicated shell, has been particularly challenging when self-doubt is sitting on my shoulder humming her paralysing siren song in my ear. As time goes on however, I am discovering ways to silence her and keep going...this has probably been the biggest change for me since I started sculpting at the end of 2013 and has opened the flood gates for greater possibility which I think reflects in my work. Aside from the aesthetic changes that they have undergone as my skills have become slightly more refined and deliberate, over the last two years especially, I feel that I have begun to grant myself the freedom to imagine them in a wider range of settings which in turn, has allowed them to speak on a broader spectrum of issues and emotions.
“Lost Child XIV” - Mixed media sculpture. 15cm (5.9")
KD: We would love to hear more about where you live in Tasmania, and what a day in your life is typically like as a full time artist?
M: I live in the far South of Tasmania, on 20 acres of forest covered property on which my husband and I built our own home 10 years ago. We built my studio in the trees a short way from the house about four years ago using some left over building materials and some recycled windows, as it started becoming clear my small desk space in the house was no longer appropriate. My studio has now become an integral part of my life and my creativity; the space and all within it really is an extension of myself, I feel safe to be myself in there. A day in my working life usually starts at dawn (our roosters take care of ensuring I don't often miss the sunrise) with animals to be fed, dogs to be walked and school lunches to be made before the rest of the house awakens. Work begins once my little ones are out the door but I usually try to meditate for 15 mins or so before I get started, which is my gateway, I step into between the reality outside of my work and the alternate world within it. Once inside my studio I switch off, make a pot of tea and that's where I remain until my girls are home from school and my focus shifts back to family until they are in bed. Usually at this stage I could curl up and sleep but often there are emails to return, sketches to finish, photos to edit and so the day ends this way.
“Lost Child XII” - Mixed media sculpture. 13.5cm (5.3")
KD: Spiritwoods is your incredible new range of pure and gorgeous botanical products, I feel a relationship between your work as Mahlimae and this new venture. It all seems to lead into getting in touch with something that most of us have been too busy to connect with. Can you tell us a little about Spiritwoods and how it came to be?
M: Moving to Tasmania opened my eyes to something I was missing before. When we first moved here and started building, my husband and I lived in a caravan with no electricity, no running water, no heating other than our campfire; none of the modern conveniences of our previous life. It was when all was stripped back...when night times were spent by the fire under an expanse of stars, when days required manual labour and a reliance upon the garden for nourishment and healing, when life slowed down without distraction, my eyes were opened to the energy of this place, of the land, the symbiotic relationship between the fauna and flora, the responsiveness of the forest to the elements. For the first time since I was a child, I really connected with nature again and it became so clear to me how much I was missing before...how much many of us are missing. Although I can't replicate the whole of this experience for people, I am passionate about helping others forge that connection in some small way within their own lives, no matter where they live and what their daily lives entail. This is the impetus behind Spiritwoods and the products I have formulated, which I launched in September last year. Each little pot or herbal blend contains a concentrated and unique amalgam of pure, natural botanicals which I have carefully selected and combined for their properties with the intention to heal in some way - the skin, the spirit, wellbeing, ritual. It's my way of bottling the wild magic of this place and sending it all over the world in a hope that people will grant themselves 5 minutes a day to stop and breathe it all in.
“Lost Child III” - Mixed media sculpture. 13.5 cm (5.3”)
KD: What does 2018 hold for you, any big exciting plans you can share with us?
M: 2018 is getting off to an incredible start for me with my first solo exhibition opening at BeinArt Gallery; this story has been with me for a great many moons so it's exciting to see it finally come into its own. Breathing space will be short lived however as I will pretty much be diving straight back into my daydreams again preparing work for my mini solo at Haven Gallery, NY in November. I am thrilled to be sharing that time and space with the talented Scott Radke and another of my favourite artists yet to be announced publicly so there is much to look forward to. Some secret plans are in the works for connecting Spiritwoods with a larger audience and my husband has just taken over the lease of a small country pub down here in the Huon Valley; so I think sleep will be hard to come by this year for us both, though much to look forward to.
“The Watcher’s Wife” - Mixed media sculpture. 12cm (4.7")
KD: I always love to do my 10 quick questions so we can get to know you better! Favourite food?
M: Thai
KD: If you were an animal what would you be?
M: Probably a snow leopard - we share a lot of similarities in character, a propensity for solitude, most active at dawn and dusk, preferring cold mountainous habitats and a dislike for water. Plus I have been known to wail and hiss if necessary.
KD: 3 things you would take on a desert island?
M: Well practical things like a flint stone, fresh water and a knife are fairly predictable so let me choose my sketchbook/pencil, an assortment of seeds and my dog (for company, not food)
“Lost Child VIII” - Mixed media sculpture. 13 cm (5.1”)
KD: Favourite smell?
M: The smell of the forest here after winter rain. It's a beautiful mix of damp earth, decaying mushrooms, eucalyptus leaves, wood smoke and melting snow; it smells like home to me.
KD: Most exciting place you’ve seen?
M: The area around Cradle Mountain to Lake St Clair here in Tasmania is breathtaking; especially in the late Spring. Everything grows in response to the harshness of the weather; the shrubbery is stunted and tough, like miniature versions of their kin in sheltered habitats, leaves are tiny to avoid freezing by the snow, the bark is gnarled and dappled with lichen, there are so many birds sharing the duties of overseeing the geography with the incredible towering rocky outcrops and snow-capped mountains. It's a very beautiful place.
“Lost Child X” - Mixed media sculpture. 12cm (4.7")
KD: Best advice you’ve ever been given?
M: At the end of 2015 when I was considering making the change from social work to creating full time, my husband said to me "if it makes your soul happy and it's what you want to do, then just do it". It was a scary leap of faith but his advice made me realise life is too short not to take the chance to follow your dreams.
KD: Favourite quote?
M: There are so many quotes that move me, it is very difficult to choose a favourite but the one I have within view every day is an pertinent excerpt from a Nabokov quote "Imagine me; I shall not exist if you do not imagine me"
“The Watcher” - Mixed media sculpture. 13.5cm (5.3")
KD: Favourite TV show?
M: If only I had enough time to watch it....Black Mirror is probably the cleverest TV I have seen recently
KD: If you could have 1 superpower what would it be?
M: As a child I always wished I could fly in real life as I did in my dreams. I imagined being able to fly would mean a version of safety from the world, a natural ability to escape in some way which has always been appealing to me.
KD: 5 people to invite to a dinner party, living or dead?
M: I’m going to avoid any obvious martyrs, royals or saints here and go for fascinating conversation:
John Muir
Sid Barrett
Helen Mirren
Andrew Chumbley
Oscar Wilde
“Lost Child IX” - Mixed media sculpture. 14 cm (5.5”)
This interview was written by Kylie Dexter for Beinart Gallery in 2018.
Kylie Dexter is the former Deputy Editor of Australian based contemporary art publication - Beautiful Bizarre Magazine. Kylie is also an artist, making needle felt creations under the name Dolldrums Dolls. Her passion is art and she boasts a collection of epic proportions from Artists around the World.
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The lyrical paintings of Jana Brike are evocative mood pieces. Her paintings feature young, usually female characters in natural environments; with their strong symbolism and elements of mythology and fairy tales, these works invite the viewer into the action as the characters interact with the world around them or experience intimacy with another—or sometimes with themselves. Brike is one of four artists featured in the show Lush, which opens at the beinArt Gallery November 18.
“Even when you break the dishes in a family argument, or mend your broken heart, or struggle to leave a job that gives you security but kills you with boredom, and so on and so on, it is all a part of this dance of transcendence. Painting just is my personal way to do that transcendence. I don’t paint the darkest heaviest material directly, because it’s all been transformed through my painting process; just a few scars are there to indicate the last bits of struggle and pain. But mostly what’s left is the quiet shining joy.” —Jana Brike
See available paintings by Jana Brike.
“Wild Honey” - Oil painting by Jana Brike for Lush.
Julie Antolick Winters: Your personal history is so interesting: you grew up in Latvia when it was still part of the Soviet Union and started training intensively in art at a very early age. Do you remember how it came about that you were directed down an artistic path?
Jana Brike: It was a rather harsh environment, with the aesthetics all about functionality or impressiveness and very little about beauty. Everywhere I caught some glimpse of it—a flower or a butterfly, grandmother’s lace or old church book illustrations, fairy tale movies or ballet performance—it just felt like it made my soul sing all of a sudden. Of course, I wanted to be part of it, a participant or, even better, a creator of it in one way or another. Beauty is still an important theme of my work.
"Kissing Lessons Behind The School Shed" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: How much of a say did you have in the subject matter of your work as a student?
JB: Not much in the school, as the most part of the education was for developing skills. We painted still lifes, models, and different composition, technique and style exercises. The personal compositions were always assignment based, never just free. I had much greater say in subject matter and the direction I wanted to go in my university years.
"Ascension on a School Trip" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: You had the comparatively rare experience of having solo exhibitions at a very young age; what effect, if any, did this have on your progression as an artist? I’m thinking, I suppose, of having so much work out there for audience reaction, but I’m interested in any aspect that comes to mind.
JB: I haven’t thought of that really; that’s an interesting question. Well, I changed, grew and evolved under the scrutiny of the public eye. I do realize that the path that is considered smarter from a brand-building perspective is that you first work in the privacy of your studio till your recognizable style is fully developed, and then you just stick to it. I did the opposite, as quite a lot other artists have. I don’t know what the effect is. Maybe that I am not afraid to change the direction completely, go a different path when in one I am beginning to feel stuck in or bored with, and even if the work seems to be going well, liked by the public and finding its own niche in the market, even then I can change with no fear. Although I do get a silly flash of personal irritation if someone comments that they “like my previous work better.” I don’t doubt that there are people who like ME, as I was ten years ago, better, but it doesn’t mean I could have stopped growing and changing. I do realize, though, that one person can relate to the imagery of that damaged, traumatized, alien but beautiful inner child that I created earlier. To another the themes of internal “coming of age” of the psyche are closer. Another relates to the femininity issues that I focus on now. Each theme has come with not just a distinctive style but also a development of different technique to express it better. It’s been a wonderful journey; I regret nothing (smile).
"Two Wounded Angels on the Beach" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: You have said that you've needed to unlearn a lot of what you were taught during your art education. Tell us what that unlearning involved.
JB: I didn’t talk of skills but of mindset, of course. Most of all, I had to drop the idea that there is the “correct” and the “incorrect” way to do anything at all in art, especially when it comes to storytelling, and especially when you are doing it in a way you enjoy, that rings true to your nature. The pressure in an art school where you are told you have to experiment and discover new things, push your limits, but at the same time your mistakes are evaluated all the time according to some ranking system—it was like brakes on creativity. In order to expand, you make mistakes and have failures first—that’s just natural. You have to learn to allow yourself to do that to grow, and to not judge yourself by your mistakes. In the long run, the grander the mistakes, the greater the growth. But when you’re in school—you have failed in your curriculum objectives, and you never try to push in that direction again.
“Search for the Origin of the Universe” - Oil painting by Jana Brike for Lush.
JAW: A dominant theme of your work seems to be exploration and growth—sometimes sexual but also sometimes just relational in a nonsexual context. And in many paintings, the subject is exploring something in herself (again, sometimes sexually and sometimes not). How did this theme develop for you?
JB: Growth, expansion into something bigger is a universal principle; exploration and curiosity are the most natural things to all living things. The cultural “norms” oftentimes see the simple beauty of this aspect of nature as a shameful, dirty thing, invoking guilt and suppression and self-judgment. This is what I go against, so a lot of it is just sweetly playful, sometimes even funny.
"Summer of the Wild Wallflower" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
I would rather say that my current work is about connection rather than sexuality—connection to your own body first of all. In the society we live in and with the fast pace of time, with all the issues on the personal level and on the world stage, people live out of their bodies and inside their minds, or absorbed by the emotions completely. My painting for me means to breathe in, breathe out and focus on being the life force flowing through the body. For women it seems even more important than for men: in the body is all the life-knowledge of this earth plane. So the sexuality doesn’t mean just physical intercourse. Sexuality—it’s a root, a grounding principle, connected to surviving and thriving in the physical world. It is no wonder that so many spiritual practices have wanted to cut that root, attempting to “jump” closer to the sky. Maybe for a short time it can be sped up, but then you wither and wilt in the physical world. In the longer run, you want to be well rooted and grow strong and tall up to the sky, not just fly uprooted. I hold both of these aspects in my work, hence the symbolism of flying things like birds, butterflies and bees, the vast sky and the solid earth with its natural beauty.
That is also why a human body is important in my work—with all its scratches and bruises from being touched by the world, with all its vulnerability in its nakedness. Is it straightforward sexual in the simplest sense of the word? I honestly don’t even know… definitely not as an object for someone else’s fun and entertainment!!
"Thirst" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: Considering the big changes you’ve seen on a political scale in your country, has there been a time when you’ve addressed any of those explicitly in your work?
JB: No, not at all. I am glad of collapse of all unnatural, suppressive human-built systems, and I am beyond sure that more will collapse in my lifetime, but I don’t reflect on that through my art. My focus is a strong “self,” regardless of the temporary circumstance—“self” that doesn’t give its own power away to external systems or persons.
JAW: What do you see as the most important development in your work over the course of your art career?
JB: I would say when I dared to make my work much more personal, emotional, reflective of my most intimate experiences—that was the biggest leap.
It’s a hard question, though. It’s a bit like trying to think which one is the most important minute of my day. I can’t really tell, as every minute leads to the next one.
"First Love on the Edge of a Deep Dark Forest" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: One of the things I appreciate in your work is the movement in a lot of your pieces; one can see swaths of petals in the wind, clusters of butterflies in flight, waves about to crash. Looking at your work, one often feels as if one has stepped into a scene in action or caught a person in a moment; even when the figures are still, your paintings rarely feel static. In creating a piece, how do you decide whether to place characters in action together versus staring back at the viewer?
JB: I had one exhibition titled After the End of Time dedicated completely to this very idea. The scene of, let’s say, girls dancing in the sea changes in mood completely if they have a huge wave in a close background, as if about to crush them, and they are serenely and beautifully and peacefully there, as if not noticing anything around. I definitely use that in my work consciously to give the painting the intended atmosphere, sometimes to construct a metaphor about life even.
"Girl With a Golden Heart Basking in the Sunshine" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
Also, undeniably, painting is a strange medium, where countless hours, days, weeks, sometimes even years of constant energy flow and dedicated work are used to depict one single frozen moment, isn’t it? That alone can give that metaphysical feeling of a window into a world where time just flows differently and one second of their time is a million years in our reality. At least I get that kind of goosebumps feeling from some painters’ work.
As for decision making, my paintings actually change a lot in the process. Sometimes a character staring back at the viewer doesn’t work out as I had intended; then I change the face in the process. Sometimes I change huge portions of a work entirely. I have had occasions when I send finished images to a gallery, and then an hour later write them, “Wait, no, stop!” and repaint the entire background from depicting broad daylight into a starlit night. A lot of details that indicate movement are added on top of a relatively finished work.
"Sweet Surrender" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: You have described your work as “poetic visual autobiography.” Do you write poetry as well?
JB: I write stories. Ambiguous poetic stories, many of them accompanied by pictures. Maybe one day I’ll do a book out of those.
JAW: Tell us about the place of sketchwork in your overall artistic life. Is sketching a way to work out possibilities for paintings, or is it a discipline unto itself?
JB: Sketching is completely self-sufficient. My sketches rarely, if ever, turn into paintings directly. Paintings are born as a complete image in my mind, and sketching doesn’t help there, although it helps me sometimes to remember the image if I can’t get to painting immediately. For painting, the next step would be the reference material, work with models, landscapes, occasionally mood boards. I feel like with sketching, I process my most immediate emotional life and experiences, flaring feelings and fast thoughts. Painting, where the process is much longer, is more comprehensive, even distanced sometimes, dealing less with daily emotion and more with states of consciousness. It is hard to define in words.
"The Wildlife" - Sketch by Jana Brike.
JAW: Have you received criticism for depicting young people in sexual contexts, and if so, how have you responded to that?
JB: Do I paint actual direct sexual contexts? I sometimes paint young couples in love, excited with each other and their mutual feelings. Maybe that intensity of that first attraction is what fascinates me. Usually I paint a single figure, though. But in either case there is never any predator present, nobody is ever being hurt or endangered, nobody is being misused, or taken advantage of for sexual pleasure of another. Never ever. And I don’t objectify the body; in fact, the characters are mostly my self-portraits in one form or another. If I paint a youngster frolicking in grass, basking in sunshine, swimming naked in a river—it’s just that, a human being having the best day of their life, exploring themselves and the world around, with no one “other” to restrain or touch them. Just as I myself did (and still do) in the country in summertime. It’s a completely subjective, deeply personal perspective on the human condition. Simple physical joy of being! Maybe someone can feel as an uncomfortable voyeur in front of my painting in a case when they can’t associate at all with this theme personally. I don’t know about that; it’s hard for me to take a voyeur position in front of a creation of my own heart, and to try to explain that position. But it’s actually not that often that I meet people like that.
"Gardener and The Centre of The Universe" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
When I look at people who buy my art or to whom I have a longer dialogue about my themes, 90% are actually women, with similar feelings, experiences that bond them with my work on an emotional level. It’s all been a touching and beautiful exchange mostly.
At the same time, I can’t deny I listen to the opinion of the public: in this time and age it is nearly impossible not to. Let’s take for example the intimate flower piece Gardener and the Center of the Universe that I exhibited with beinArt for the first time a few years ago. I had painted similar pieces for some years in my studio, completely rawly intimate to me, exploring the body-related themes so important to each woman. But I was honestly scared to show it publicly. It meant showing openly where I am most vulnerable, what is so sacred to a woman but is so casually abused in our society. In daily life, you just don’t invite more emotional abuse by openly and with no guard held up showing to others how this theme is important to you, by talking about a woman’s body in this subjective way. Without the social media feedback, this one would probably have sold like other paintings, and it would not even register to me how important that theme, that loving approach, is to other people, and especially women! So, for the few bullies that I get, I wouldn’t give up that instant communication.
"No Escape from this Beautiful Dream" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
“Summertime Melancholia” - Oil painting by Jana Brike for Lush.
It is actually an important part of my ethnic heritage—the world view where the life is not split into “profane” and “spiritual” as every single thought, feeling and action is a part of this spiritual journey. Even when you break the dishes in a family argument, or mend your broken heart, or struggle to leave a job that gives you security but kills you with boredom, and so on and so on, it is all a part of this dance of transcendence.
Painting just is my personal way to do that transcendence. I don’t paint the darkest heaviest material directly, because it’s all been transformed through my painting process; just a few scars are there to indicate the last bits of struggle and pain. But mostly what’s left is the quiet shining joy—that is so true.
“Wild Honey” - Oil painting by Jana Brike for Lush.
JAW: I mentioned earlier some of the imagery used in your work, including flowers, water, and butterflies. These things convey beauty, joy, hope, turmoil. How do you decide what kind of imagery to use in your work?
JB: Not all is decided very consciously. A lot of my process is like a playful and free-flowing poem. A lot of the little details are added in the very last stage of my work. I don’t have everything thought out, and I don’t have a symbol dictionary where I would look up what stands for love or hope, or fear, or whatever I try to depict. It’s actually quite the opposite: when I notice something keeps reappearing in my work in a haunting way to me, I start to do some analysis or research. When I paint and make decisions in the actual process, it’s not about the looks I envisioned but the feeling, atmosphere, which is often formed by subtle unconscious associations, multiple layers of meanings that are both very personal and comprehensive. It’s all according to what feels right at the moment.
"Goodbye Eden" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: What do you look for or enjoy in the work of other artists?
JB: It’s very undefinable. It’s all about the feeling it gives me. And the best of all is when the feeling is strong, very familiar, but when I can’t quite put my finger on it and describe it in words, when it’s some strange heart-to-heart communication. I as an artist can’t fake it or learn from someone to do it; it takes a lot of ruthless honesty towards oneself, commitment, love and care to produce a work like that.
"The End of a Lonesome Road" - Oil painting by Jana Brike.
JAW: In addition to your November show at Beinart Gallery, do you have any shows or other activities on the horizon that you'd like to tell our readers about?
JB: I have a couple of solo exhibitions on the horizon. The closest is in April at Gallery House, Toronto, and also a very big project coming up at the end of 2018, the biggest paintings I have ever done, at San Diego Art Institute, curated by Distinction Gallery. And I am very, very excited about that!
Jana Brike finishing her painting "Death and one of her Sisters" for Lush.
The Lush group exhibition opens on 18 November 2017 at 6pm at BeinArt Gallery in Brunswick in Melbourne, Australia, featuring the art of Jana Brike, Redd Walitzki, Rodrigo Luff and Ray Caesar.
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in 2017.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
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Suspend disbelief and escape into a botanically-infused dreamscape inhabited by enchanting, feminine sprites. Through an ornamental proscenium you enter a world bewitched with undertones of fantasy and magical overlays, the other-worldliness of it all masking the historical basis for the stories there told. This is the world of Seattle-based figurative-artist, Redd Walitzki.
Walitzki’s art is immediately identifiable upon entering the gallery or, as is the case these days, without even clicking to enlarge. Her pieces are self-framing, with delicately intricate and intricately delicate designs cut into the surface of each painting. The aesthetic is one reminiscent of antiquity yet executed with modern, laser technology. Each piece mysteriously appears to hover two inches from the wall, as if by magic, accentuating the fantastical ambience and casting an ornamental shadow on the wall behind, creating a sense of depth and dimension.
See available paintings by Redd Walitzki.
"Rite of Spring" - oil and mixed media on lasercut panel for Lush.
Legends of orchid hunters in the Victorian-era have been on Walitzki’s mind lately. Orchids were unknown to Europe until 1818 when the first specimens inadvertently arrived in London, having been used - according to popular myth - as packing-material in a consignment of tropical plants sent from Rio de Janeiro. This ultimately sparked an ‘orchid fever’ in London, with armadas of orchid hunters being despatched on dangerous sorties into tropical locations to retrieve commercial volumes of specimens. The dangers they faced seem almost unbelievable and defy contemporary parameters of occupational health and safety. In one 1901 expedition, eight orchid hunters ventured into the Phillipines, but only one returned alive. The others were either eaten by tiger, burnt alive or vanished altogether. Orchid hunters in Papua New Guinea were beheaded or had intimate body parts amputated in conflicts. Their counterparts in the Solomon Islands were tortured and killed by local cannibals.
These remarkable stories have inspired a new body of work which will feature in the Lush group exhibition at Beinart Gallery, opening on 18 November 2017.
Walitzki recently discussed this new body of work, her creative process and her other artistic endeavours with Luke Barrett.
"State of Decay" - oil and mixed media on lasercut panel for Lush.
“While in a way these figures have fallen victim to their plight, there is also the sense that they are a part of a natural cycle. There is power in that as well, and especially as our world alters due to human intervention, it’s important to continue to remind ourselves we are a part of these natural processes.” —Redd Walitzki
Luke Barrett: You recently created an image for Anomie Belle's Flux album, as part of a group exhibition for Modern Eden. I saw that painting of yours still being used in her concerts. Outside of galleries and private collections, are there any other unexpected places where we should keep an eye out for your work?
Redd Walitzki: It was a huge honour to collaborate with musician Anomie Belle for her recent album! My painting of her was the cover art for the US release; the CDs, iTunes and the special edition art booklets, which also included pieces by Kari-Lise Alexander, Marco Mazzoni, Casey Weldon, Meredith Marsone and more!
Making work for unexpected outlets can be a fun change of pace that always brings a new perspective. In the past I’ve created a Snowboard for Signal Snowboards, made short-animation pieces for Microsoft, and worked on several fashion collaborations (which I would love to do more of!)
Left: "Words Unspoken" on easel - Right: Photo of Redd Walitzki.
LB: You seem to have an extremely wide range of outlets for your creative passions! Where do you think these talents come from?
RW: Creativity is a state of being, and often for me there are no clear boundaries between the different outlets - they all feed into each other. Exploring photography makes me excited to paint, styling a fashion look makes me want to film it, each new notion opens another door. My parents always encouraged my sister Roxanna and I in our creative endeavours, and she and I still collaborate often and use our combined creative skills to tackle larger projects than would be possible alone.
“Blackberry Wine” - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: Of these talents, which one is your main passion? Is there one which you see becoming your main focus in future years?
RW: Painting is and always has been my overwhelming passion, which is why I’ve made it my life and career, and it’s not something I see myself ever moving away from. But incorporating other creative outlets into my art practice is a great way to add variety and get new ideas as well!
Redd Walitzki working on her painting "Rite of Spring" for Lush.
LB: With all of this going on, what do you think the future holds? Are we likely to see Redd Inc. or perhaps even a fashion label?! Or is your image-making your natural centre?
RW: Self-directed fine art is definitely what I enjoy doing the most. It’s important for me to be able to pursue new concepts and direction as my art requires without constraint. Doing the same thing for too long is very creatively draining for me, and the novelty of a new challenge is where I thrive!
When the perfect project presents itself, commercial work can be a fun challenge too, and it’s always exciting when it exposes my work to a larger audience. Eventually doing something in the realm of fashion would be a really amazing opportunity, but it would likely be more in the vein of avant-garde couture, or more experimental like Bjork’s fashion collaborations, or the work of Alexander McQueen!
"The Arsenic Waltz" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: How did you stumble across the orchid hunter history? How long did the idea percolate in your mind before you decided to use it as the inspiration for your latest body of work?
RW: A lot of research goes into the conceptual basis for my paintings - I read voraciously and am constantly listening to audiobooks, podcasts and documentaries. Ideas based in science, history and myth are especially interesting to me, and often influence what I create. I came across the topic of Orchid Hunters while researching various other flower deliriums (times where the pursuit of flowers caused social upheaval). The idea of rugged explorers braving incredible hardships, just to collect delicate orchids and bring them back to Victorian England, was fascinating and made for a juicy starting point to create work about!
"Simulacrum" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: Is that a fairly typical way for you to source inspiration for a series of images?
RW: Yes, generally before beginning a new series I allow myself an incubation period for the ideas I’ve been collecting to bloom. This is especially important to keep the subject matter interesting and fresh, I don’t like to repeat myself and always want the paintings to keep growing and transforming, otherwise there’s no challenge! My best work comes from the moments where I’m not sure if what I’m trying to achieve is even possible. Painting is my main love, and through my mixed media process I’m constantly pushing at the boundaries of what that can involve, so in this way I consider myself an “image maker”- there’s often a mad science element to the way I work!
"Honey" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: The figures in these new images, are they re-envisioned orchid hunters? Or do you imagine these images as being representative of scenes that orchid hunters may have observed in another version of this universe?
RW: In an abstract sense they are, but thinking of them as an alternate variation is a great way to look at it. Often the final paintings are more about the emotions and organic re-interpretations of the source material than a literal retelling.
The figures in “Rite of Spring” and “Annihilation” were inspired by the story of a particular tribe in the Solomon Islands, rumored to “torture their human sacrifices with the most beautiful blooming orchids placed around them so that the victims were able to see the color of the flowers growing richer from their own blood.” This image was powerful to me. I’ve previously depicted coral and arteries merging in an organic way, and this gave me another chance to pursue that vision.
"Spectral Attitude" - oil and mixed media on lasercut panel for Lush.
LB: What was it about the orchid hunters that captured your imagination? Was it a fascination with early tribal cultures? The other-worldliness of sacrificial rituals? Empathy for the struggles of the orchid hunters? The beauty of the flowers they were in search of? Or a sense of awe at the suffering they endured?
RW: Initially I was drawn to the idea of re-contextualising the flower hunters in a more feminine perspective. Historically most explorers were men, so our culture still often thinks of exploration as a masculine pursuit. I liked the idea of casting them as powerful women instead. The stories about the hunters encapsulated so many elements I love, that it made for a rich starting point. Orchids are also a subject I really enjoy to paint, given their sensuality and alien forms.
As I began planning the pieces, the idea became less literal, and interpreting some of the specific stories that individual Orchid Hunters had experienced became more interesting to me.
"When All Is Breaking" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: Do you intend a cyclical theme, life followed by death followed by (floral) life, repeat - possibly blurring the notions of life and death? Whereas the figures may have lost their lives, it is almost as if they become one with the jungle floor, merging with the floral life, creating a self-sustaining beauty.
RW: Yes, this is a subject that tends to come up a lot in my work! Nature is full of cycles, and in the context of modern life it’s easy to forget that we are a part of that. I really enjoy exploring those states of death and rebirth, and the ways in which nature can absorb and transmute the human body into another form.
The little still life “State of Decay” was a new way of playing with that idea for me, through a skull cradled in a luxurious nest of flowers, with orchids and insects crawling from its lifeless eye-sockets. This ties back into an Orchid Hunter tale, of how “a certain Wilhelm Micholitz had to dig out a much prized specimen from the eye sockets of a human skull.”
"Her Bones Are Coral Made" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: Earlier on you were saying that you have re-envisioned the orchid hunters as powerful women, but some of them have fallen victim in their quest. How do you reconcile your desire to portray them powerfully with their fatal plight?
RW: Re-envisioning the Orchid Hunters was originally the concept that seemed most intriguing. But as I began the pieces, the idea diverged and shifted into a different perspective. My prior solo exhibition featured alien explorers in otherworldly environments, so for these “Lush” pieces I wanted to do something different.
While in a way these figures have fallen victim to their plight, there is also the sense that they are a part of a natural cycle. There is power in that as well, and especially as our world alters due to human intervention, it’s important to continue to remind ourselves we are a part of these natural processes.
"How Strange it is to be Anything at All" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: You were saying before that some of these paintings are more about emotions than a literal re-telling of the Orchid Hunter story. Can you elaborate on those emotions? Aesthetically, the pieces are gorgeously pretty, but paradoxically they tell a fatal story in some cases.
RW: That juxtaposition is something I really enjoy playing with! The emotional states that interest me the most are complex, and I’m drawn to beauty when it has a dark edge to it. In these pieces hopefully that comes across, I wanted to explore sensuality and ethereal beauty with an undercurrent of something a bit more dangerous. In the case of the pieces with the red coral “veins”, that danger may be to the subjects. But in “Spectral Attitude” the danger is projected outward, from the beautiful orchid mantis Nymph seductively luring in the viewer!
"Last Flowers" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel for Lush.
LB: How did laser cutting become such an integral part of your art? Where did the idea come from?
RW: Laser cutting fascinated me because it offers the chance to fabricate very detailed and high quality objects without the need to manually use power tools. When the print studio I work with (Bellevue Fine Art) got a laser-cutter, the chance to experiment with ways to incorporate it into my art practice was too tempting to pass up! At the time, it was still mostly in the realm of techies and engineers, and not many artists were using it for more creative applications yet. I get excited when there is a chance to blur the line between more traditional techniques like oil painting and new technologies, because it allows for the opportunity to make art that is only possible now, in our time. This makes it feel exciting and contemporary!
"Only Revolutions of Ruin" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: Are your laser cut shapes unique, like snowflakes? Or are there trademark designs which feature consistently in your work?
RW: Each piece has its own unique frame, suited to the painting. I have some base designs that I reuse in part, for example small portraits will often be in a baroque oval shape. But each one has distinct elements unique to that particular piece, so in that way, they are like snowflakes!
"Exquisite Corpse" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: At what point do you decide on the design of the laser cut? Do you start with the laser cut in mind? Or does the uncut image inspire the laser cut design? Or is it more a practical case of designing a cut which does not involve cutting out a key part of the composition?
RW: I create the frame at the half-way point for the painting, after the watercolor under-painting is complete and I know where the major compositional elements will be. During this design stage, elements are added or subtracted to create the best composition and flow for the image. Cutting the painting at this point also minimises the danger, since it's not totally complete yet. Laser-cutters can malfunction, or the material can burn more than expected, lots of scary things could go wrong! Once the piece is cut, completing it in oils gives me the chance to complement the frame, and symbiotically add more texture and personality to the final piece.
Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
LB: Do you think the laser cutting will always be a part of your art? If not, what are we likely to see next?
RW: It’s still a fun avenue for me to explore, and the frames have become such an integral part of my paintings, that I do see myself continuing to pursue it at least in the near future. But who knows what exciting new technology will emerge next and catch my fancy!
"Girl with a Pearl Ballgag" - Oil and mixed media on lasercut panel by Redd Walitzki.
The Lush group exhibition opens on 18 November 2017 at 6pm at Beinart Gallery in Brunswick in Melbourne, Australia, featuring the art of Redd Walitzki, Rodrigo Luff, Jana Brike and Ray Caesar.
This interview was written by Luke Barrett for Beinart Gallery in November 2017.
Luke Barrett is a Melbourne-based art collector with a keen interest in writing poetry, photography, philosophy, cosmology and quantum physics. He has a particular interest in the origin of the multiverse, the emergence of intelligent life and associated creation myths. When allowed, he ponders the role of free will in a causalistic universe.
Barrett is a writer for the print edition of Beautiful Bizarre Magazine and has interviewed many of the world’s leading new contemporary and pop surreal artists.
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As Rodrigo Luff was applying the finishing touches to his paintings for our upcoming Lush group exhibition, he took time-out to discuss his ethereal goddesses, luminescent forests and mysterious owls with Luke Barrett. Fresh from binge-watching David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, they explore the themes and hidden meanings in Luff’s work by drawing parallels to Lynch’s cult classic, in the process sharing some of their own theories and interpretations of that series.
“The owls are not what they seem” The Giant (1990); R Luff (2017)
“I really want to capture the essence of that dream feeling… It’s meant to symbolise the wild aspects of consciousness outside the rational and ordered mind.” R Luff (2017)
See available art by Rodrigo Luff.
Listen to the sounds. Night falls and then the noises come. The precise point of origin: variable and masked by darkness, but undeniably within the unlit forest outside. The sound: a deep, recurring tone reverberating through the trees, the kind which somehow brings calm and comfort and implies a sense of wisdom.
Even the most casual David Lynch aficionado could mistake this for something out of Laura Palmer’s hometown.
But this was Rodrigo Luff’s introduction to owls. While he would not lay eyes upon an owl until later, in the beginning he would hear their reassuring calls while working late each night in his studio on the edge of the forest.
For the uninitiated, Luff is a Sydney-based, Australian artist who has established a significant international footprint through his distinctive paintings of feminine nudes set amongst lush, ethereal and dream-like natural settings, typically accented with luminescent lighting and visitations by those owls, together with deer, jellyfish and other fauna.
At his openings, it is not unprecedented to overhear collectors and enthusiasts speculating in apparent disbelief whether Luff has combined painting with collage. Luff juxtaposes photo-realism with looser, surreal elements, thus begging the question whether the whole work is by the same hand – which, of course, it is.
"Summoning" - oil on wood panel by Rodrigo Luff for Lush.
The lead-up to Luff’s next exhibition with BeinArt Gallery coincided with the release of David Lynch’s Twin Peaks Limited Event Series, the baffling third season which was released more than 25 years after the second season ended in what was possibly the most shocking and longest-standing-unresolved cliff-hanger in television history. Many of the works for this next exhibition were painted with Twin Peaks streaming in the background. Both of us are deep into our second viewing and seeing the world through only slightly Lynch-tinted lenses.
David Lynch is notoriously evasive about shedding interpretative light on Twin Peaks. One senses a similar hesitation in Luff when discussing his own body of work – ironically, even when asked to shed light on his use of light:
“There are so many different interpretations of this concept of light and luminescence … I’m more than happy to leave it up to the viewer to decide for themselves what they want to take from the work.”
"Symbiosis" - Oil painting by Rodrigo Luff.
In the case of Twin Peaks, it is consequently difficult to ever feel confident about having a comprehensive grasp of the plot line, except at a relatively macro level. The farther one reaches for a deeper understanding of the detail, the more one experiences the kind of dismay and consternation that a physics student experiences when they shift focus from the physics of Newton or Einstein’s General Theory of Relativity (the physics which governs very-large objects) towards quantum physics (the physics which governs very-small particles, at a sub-atomic level). Concepts and interpretations which make perfect sense at the macro level start to break down when you get down to that level of detail.
A fascination with the commonalities that do exist between the science of the very-large and the science of the very-small is apparent in Luff’s depictions of luminosity and the emission of light.
“I’ve been obsessed with luminescence in all forms for well over a decade. I recently saw super rare glow worms in the Blue Mountains outside Sydney and it just blew my mind that they could emit these constellations of light that are so beautiful… But you can also find a similar luminescence in the stars, nebulae and cosmic patterns of the night sky. In both examples, this omnipresent force of light seems to shine at both the largest and smallest scales in our universe, pulsing away at all hours.”
"Psychic Undergrowth II" - Oil painting by Rodrigo Luff.
The phenomenon of light being emitted at the smallest-scale – specifically, the energy released upon splitting an atom - is significant for Lynch as well, with imagery of atom bomb detonations recurring throughout the recent Twin Peaks series. One interpretation is that, when the power of the atom was used for military purposes, humanity crossed a metaphorical bridge to the dark side, which in turn enabled new evils to cross over into our world and enter our way of living.
Wartime hostilities precipitated a metaphorical bridge for Luff in his personal life too but, in his case, a bridge to a better life. Luff was born in civil-war torn El Salvador. His mother, herself still a young woman, fled for safety with infant Luff when he was only 18 months old.
“Not only did she have the challenge of raising an infant son in a foreign country, but she also had to learn English and work on her own as a single mother. I couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been, I’m very grateful that we settled here.”
Whereas painting was the precursor for Lynch’s segue into film making, Luff jokes that his “gateway drug” into fine art was drawing comic book art and fantasy art.
“By the last two years of high school I had prepared a portfolio of sequential pencil pages and had them critiqued by one of my favourite artists, Marc Silvestri at the Supanova comic con. He kindly told me to go learn anatomy and life drawing… so that was one of the initial reasons I chose to go to the Julian Ashton Art School when I graduated high school.”
Ultimately, Luff realised comic and fantasy art were not for him. He felt frustrated with being locked into someone else’s narrative and creative direction. Rather than allowing his creativity to be curtailed in the pursuit of early financial success, he ultimately found the lack of financial success to be a liberating force. Luff quips:
“If was going to get paid peanuts, I may as well be doing my own, personal work that didn’t have limitations.”
That said, even at the young age of 15, his comic art work had reached a high standard. Back then, he was already intrigued by the power of dreams.
"Will O’ The Wisp" - oil and mixed-media painting for Lush
Dreams are a subtle aspect of both Lynch’s Twin Peaks and Luff’s body of work.
In Twin Peaks, the character of Gordon Cole (played by Lynch himself) recounts having a dream in which Monica Bellucci remarks, “We are like the dreamer who dreams and lives inside the dream”, inviting one to question the confidence with which they distinguish between the real world of the awake, and the unreal world of dreams. Coincidentally, Bellucci played the character of Persephone in The Matrix trilogy of films, which was another take on the idea of lives being lived out in sub-conscious, non-physical worlds. In The Matrix films, there was a seemingly all-knowing character, known as The Oracle, with an uncanny ability to predict the future. One interpretation of that film (most of which takes place in a virtual world) is that The Oracle was a simulation program, which was able to make predictions about the future by running highly-realistic simulations to determine the most likely outcomes and consequences of particular events.
Luff sees dreams as fulfilling a similar purpose for humans, but with some limitations.
“Normally our brains take in sensory data such as light and sound, and build a best-possible model of reality to keep us alive, but we can never really touch the fully objective “real” reality outside of ourselves. And I think when we’re asleep, we don’t get that sensory data input, but the whole brain is active, which means we get a glimpse at how our brain models reality on its own.”
We know that Lynch’s Agent Cooper would certainly approve of this, given he has been portrayed quoting Werner Heisenberg’s famous utterance: “What we observe is not nature, but nature exposed to our method of questioning”. Heisenberg was one of the early pioneers of quantum physics, grappling with mysteries at the universe’s smallest scale: the sub-atomic. Heisenberg’s “uncertainty principle” encapsulates the notion that an observer (and their model of reality) affects what is observed as the reality. If one knows the location of a sub-atomic particle, then the laws of physics prohibit that person from ever being able to know the particle’s precise velocity, and vice versa.
Luff endeavours to depict the interaction, tension and differences between, on the one hand, objective reality and, on the other hand, the models of reality which our brains construct for us and their associated limitations which are revealed for what they are in our dreams.
“I think about how I really want to capture the essence of that dream feeling. The union of the “weird” and the “real” and the way you have to try and think about what different parts could mean and the challenge of interpreting it. I like how the brain can put the strangest things together and how it’s convincing on the surface, but dig a bit deeper below the surface and it’s very strange. A couple of my favourite contemporary artists that have mastered this feeling are Aron Weisenfeld and John Brosio.”
This is something which defines Lynch’s work too, this blending of the weird and the real.
The resulting juxtaposition of photo-realism and surrealism in Luff’s paintings reflects his attempt to depict objective reality together with our neural models of reality and the inner world of dreams which those models can generate:
“It’s meant to symbolise the wild aspects of consciousness outside the rational and ordered mind.”
"Embrace" - Oil painting by Rodrigo Luff.
There is ambiguity within the Twin Peaks plot line as to where most of the story takes place. Aspects of the storyline take place in spiritual realms which seem to overlap with the real world, which in turn may in fact be a dream world, and there is the suggestion of parallel or alternative worlds too.
There is a similar ambiguity around Luff’s paintings. Luff is coy when pressed on the locations of the settings for his paintings. His followers on social media would know that there is photographic reference material for each painting, but one senses that Luff would prefer to drape his disrobed subjects in retrospective geographic androgyny. In a revelation that evokes the sweet “There is No Such Place” by Melbourne-band Augie March, Luff says:
“It’s also possible that the neon forest isn’t a physical place … I’m not too interested in any particular geographic location or the names we have given these places.”
"Arcadia" - Mixed-media painting by Rodrigo Luff.
Luff confides the reason for this.
“One of my favourite quotes that guides me is by William Blake, ‘Singular and particular detail is the foundation to the sublime.’
I am trying to paint the specific natural details of the setting. Through observing those details with close attention and capturing the unique characteristics of the subject, I think it’s possible to also tap into a broader, archetypal setting.
In my recent paintings, I tried to paint the leaves as silent, supporting characters, their individual shapes attentively painted as in portraiture, so that the overall pattern of green lushness emerges from there and hopefully evokes the feeling that it’s a real place you could walk through, but at the same time this is a nowhere place, it’s somewhere vague that may exist in a dream or an old memory.”
In Lynch’s Twin Peaks, Agent Cooper was counselled by The Giant that, “the owls are not what they seem’. And so it is for Luff’s owls. He remarks:
“The owls have been an omnipresent, totemic force in my work. It would take pages and pages to delve into all the underlying symbolism that you can look into… They are rich with symbolic meaning … Those large eyes give them a psychic presence…”
He goes on:
“To me personally, the deer are emblematic of the forest and its majesty...
Jellyfish are so fascinating and beautiful: not just their luminescent colours, but also how they navigate the ocean with ease makes them almost alien to us. Did you know that there is a species of jellyfish that is basically immortal? They regress back through their life cycle to an early stage and then regenerate and continue over and over again... I hope other people can look into my paintings of jellyfish and draw their own conclusions but I think there is something really interesting about them that I’ll continue to explore in my work.”
"Nemeta" - Oil painting by Rodrigo Luff.
The fauna always seem to be at the epicentre of the luminescence that we know is so important to Luff.
“I’m hoping that the luminescence imbues the creatures with a sense of magical consciousness and an energetic power that transcends the material realm. Trying to capture this universal phenomenon within the limitations of traditional media is a real challenge.”
This all leads one to suspect that perhaps the creatures are the central characters in Luff’s work, rather than the women. However, in endeavouring to choose between the women and the fauna, we have taken an intellectual wrong turn and failed to see the forest for the trees. Much like how Laura Palmer’s connections were more significant than the Laura Palmer character per se, Luff reveals:
“The deeper meaning is in the women’s connection to the owls, creatures, animals and surroundings.”
"Resonance" - Oil painting by Rodrigo Luff.
In a Lynch-like way, Luff elaborates:
“While this ethereal forest exists outside the dualities of time and space, I haven’t really figured out if the owls are summoning a female spirit, or if these women are summoning the owls. I think they are interconnected in some way as part of the same expression of energetic, natural forces that bind these forest realms together. There’s also a psychic connection there too: the idea that the mind is more fluid and goes beyond the physical forms of the bodies, so that we know they’re communicating, but don’t know exactly what is being said.”
"Storm" - Mixed media painting by Rodrigo Luff.
Luff’s pastel and fluorescent depictions of the psychic connections between his female characters and the creatures and nature that surround them also has an analogue to Twin Peaks. In Twin Peaks, Lynch uses a creamed-corn-like substance (known as ‘garmonbozia’) as a symbolic device to represent pain and sorrow. The evil forces residing within the Black Lodge feed on the garmonbozia, whereas human characters have a nauseating reaction to its presence and are repulsed by it. Luff casually jokes:
“It’s funny because I’ve been painting this neon goo that the creatures merge with in my art for years, but it’s the opposite of garmonbozia – more like a crystallisation of love and desire.”
The ‘few years’ which Luff is referring to here have been prolific years for the artist. When asked whether he remembers every piece of art he has created, he confides:
“I think I remember most of them, but it’s getting harder and harder to recall particular works... With each year that goes by I’m forgetting more of them.”
"Neon Grove" - Oil and mixed-media painting by Rodrigo Luff.
His inspiration comes from various sources, for example, the original idea for his owl paintings came to him one night in a dream. Back in 1993, Billy Joel famously ‘dreamed’ the chorus and main melody for his song “River of Dreams” in the middle of the night (no pun intended) and then reduced the lyrics and main melody to writing when he woke up in the morning. Unfortunately for Billy Joel, this coincided with the breakdown of his marriage to his uptown girl, Christie Brinkley. Happily though, Luff’s story is a love story and he is on the brink of marriage and moving uptown to Los Angeles to be with his fiancée after several years of being in a long-distance relationship. During those years, he has juggled his busy artistic schedule with regular visits between the United States and Australia (to the point where border security raises an eye brow at both ends). Luff is clearly excited by the prospect of his pending nuptials and residing in the same city as his partner. It is too early to tell whether these life changes will stimulate and allow for an even more prolific period of creativity or whether we might notice a temporary pullback in his work schedule.
One thing which isn’t likely to change is his involvement in co-curating the annual Moleskine Project with Ken Harman at Spoke Art in San Francisco, which they have done since 2012. Back in 2011, Harman organised a solo show for Luff in which one of Luff’s own Moleskine books was deconstructed and custom-framed and which, ultimately, sold out. Ever since, they have co-curated an annual group show featuring works from other artists’ deconstructed and custom framed Moleskine books. Next year will be the seventh instalment and Luff says:
“Ken and I have joked that we’ll be doing Moleskine Project 50, and I really hope so!”
Oil painting on Moleskin book by Rodrigo Luff.
Reflecting on the lessons he has learned from this experience. Luff shares:
“The gallery managers I’ve worked with have done most of the heavy lifting but I do get a small taste of the business side, since I’m often an intermediary between the artist and the gallery and try to help as much as I can. It’s enough of a taste for me to appreciate all the risks and struggles that gallery owners endure… I think that it’s also made me realise that curators deal with similar difficult questions that artists do when finding the balance between individual free expression and the commercial marketplace. If nobody sells anything, then you won’t get to curate anything again. But if it’s all the same established artists each year, it gets stale… I’ve gained a lot of respect for the challenge that gallery owners face in choosing the artists for their shows. Without someone taking a risk on me, I never would have had a chance.”
Humbly, he confesses one further lesson from his curating work:
“It’s made me realise how much harder I need to work on my art.”
In terms of future work, Luff foreshadows a possible – but temporary - return to fantasy art, as he is keen to create some paintings inspired by the recent Twin Peaks series. If he ends up scratching that itch, a few other famous Twin Peaks quotes would be apt, given that fantasy art was how his art career began:
“Is it the future or is it the past?”
“It is happening again.”
"Guardian II" - Mixed media painting by Rodrigo Luff.
Lush is an exhibition of sensual works by Rodrigo Luff, Redd Walitzki, Ray Caesar and Jana Brike opening at Beinart Gallery in Brunswick, Victoria, Australia on Saturday, 18 November 2017 at 6pm.
This interview was written by Luke Barrett for Beinart Gallery in November 2017.
Luke Barrett is a Melbourne-based art collector with a keen interest in writing poetry, photography, philosophy, cosmology and quantum physics. He has a particular interest in the origin of the multiverse, the emergence of intelligent life and associated creation myths. When allowed, he ponders the role of free will in a causalistic universe.
Barrett is a writer for the print edition of Beautiful Bizarre Magazine and has interviewed many of the world’s leading new contemporary and pop surreal artists.
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It’s an odd thing to be introduced to a painter and etcher with a background in theology via enormous and detailed dicks carefully rendered over images in one of Australia’s most widely read newspapers. But, that is exactly how we met Jonathan Guthmann. It was clear from the level of detail on the monstrous phalluses he created while “drawing dicks on the Herald Sun” that Jonathan had an enormous amount of technical skill. But, it wasn’t until we got to know him better and view his serious works that we realised he was a artist who created traditional etchings bursting with symbolic imagery and paintings depicting a mix of mythological and theological imagery.
When sketching or exhibiting past works such as his “Acockalypse” series, Jonathan’s humour is clear and infectious. But when viewing his etchings, painstakingly created via traditional methods, it’s difficult not to be moved by narratives of mortality, love, decay and magic that emanate palpably. Jonathan Guthmann is an artist, well aware of the inherent incongruity in combing the old cultures with the new, but still determined to explore the darker elements of western religion and mysticism and draw them into the present. And we are ever so grateful for his insight. Jonathan is currently showing at Beinart Gallery as part of Memento Mori, Memento Amare. The exhibition closes November 12"
See available etchings by Jonathan Guthmann.
"Death with a Violin and Acanthus Motif II" - Etching for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
“Usually I keep my "serious" work quite separate from the humorous stuff, although my recent series on the book of Revelation is replete with giant phalluses, and they're mostly instruments of wrath. It's a funny thing to take something so serious as the cataclysmic end of the world and saturate it with grotesque genitalia, it was really quite satisfying.” —Jonathan Guthmann
Corinne Beinart: As well as being an accomplished artist, you also have a background in theology. Which interest came first?
Jonathan Guthmann: That's a difficult one to answer because while I'm not "religious" in the commonly understood sense, I grew up in an environment where there was a lot of religion around me. Some of my earliest memories are of very conservative preachers standing behind their podiums talking about the soon to come apocalypse, and in my later teenage years I started taking my first serious look at the world religions. Although I had long been fascinated by mythology, religious belief etc., it wasn't until my later 20's that I started formally studying theology when I moved to Melbourne. As for the art side of things, I've been drawing since a very early age, I would have been about 6 when I started. Both these things then have been significant factors in my life from very early on, and for some time now they've really fed into and informed one another. So it's hard for me to say which one came first, however I'd probably say art because while I was surrounded by elements of religion, spirituality and myth I didn't really take an active and conscious interest in it until I was much older.
"Totentanz III (Dance macabre III)" - Etching for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
JG: Etching is a printmaking technique that's been around for centuries. You begin with a flat sheet of metal (I personally use copper), which is covered in a fine layer of bitumen. You then use a sharp instrument to selectively scrape away the bitumen revealing the copper. Once you have created an entire image by scraping away the bitumen, you place the entire sheet in a bath of liquid that is highly corrosive to metal but will not affect the bitumen, this liquid then bites into the areas where you've exposed metal, leaving a network of incised lines. This process can be repeated multiple times with new lines being added between each etch, meaning there are various depths of line work in different areas. Then the bitumen is removed and the newly created lines in the metal plate are filled with a very stiff ink and the plate is firmly pressed against a piece of wet paper with the aid of a press, then the image is firmly imprinted onto the paper.
Jonathan working on an etching for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
CB: Your work often explores themes around death and mythical/religious symbols. Does this come from your academic background or is it more of a personal interest/exploration?
JG: It comes from both really, although I was doing fairly dark work that explored death in the symbolic sense well before I started my formal study and creating a lot of work heavily influenced by esoteric traditions like Rosicrucianism, Freemasonry and other mystic traditions. However I certainly can't say that my studies haven't provided inspiration for a lot of my work in recent years, one of my largest projects to date was the creation of series of illustrations for the book of Revelation, which I did while I was translating the book from the original Greek as part of my degree.
"Totentanz I" - Etching by Jonathan Guthmann.
CB: As well as exploring some fairly dark themes in your etchings, you’ve also been known for your more humorous artistic endeavours, most notably, Drawing Dicks on the Herald Sun. How do you see these two aspects of your creative self? And do you believe it is important to find humour in the darkness?
JG: To live a life without a sense of humour would make for a pretty dull experience, and probably one that's pretty depressing given the way a lot of the world is these days. Drawing genitals, in particular penises has been a bit of a hobby of mine since I was a kid. I would sabotage my parents' notepads or shopping lists with them, or do things like take a business card from a box, draw a boner on it and then slip it back in somewhere in the pile. I still do it now actually... I remember one time when I was about eleven I had drawn dicks, people having sex and a bunch of turds in my sketch book and my mother wanted to show a close church friend my drawing skills, so here she is showing off my sketch book and then suddenly, and to their surprise reached the "naughty page". I don't think her friend was all that impressed...
Usually I would keep my "serious" work quite separate from the humorous stuff, although my recent series on the book of Revelation is replete with giant phalluses, and they're mostly instruments of wrath. It's a funny thing to take something so serious as the cataclysmic end of the world and saturate it with grotesque genitalia, it was really quite satisfying.
"Dum Vivimus Vivamus (While we live, let us live)" - Etching for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
CB: Where to from here? Do you have any new projects or ideas you’d like to share?
JG: Where to from here... There are a few things floating round my head: revisiting the apocalyptic themes is on the cards at some point, I've also been wanting to doing a series of eerie tree-based landscapes for a while, and I'm considering playing with some dark interpretations of traditional fairy tales like those of the Grimm bros... We'll see.
”Der Tod (Death Tarot Card)" - Etching for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
"Memento Mori: Death Playing the Violin" - Etching for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
”Biss dass der Tod uns scheidet ('Til Death do us part)" - Etching for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
"Totentanz II" - Etching by Jonathan Guthmann
Jonathan is currently exhibiting a series of new etchings at Beinart Gallery as part of the show, Memento Mori, Memento Amare. This exhibit also features new sculptures by Isabel Peppard and paintings by Beau White. The exhibition closes November 12.
]]>Beau White is an exceptionally gifted figurative oil painter with a proclivity towards bizarre and often unsettling themes. He is technically skilled and able to accurately represent his subject matter to near photorealism while still having the elusive “painterly” touch. His ability could easily lend itself to complete works of neoclassical art. When hearing him talk about working with paint, it is easy to see that he has near encyclopaedic knowledge and a passion to match. But, thematically Beau White’s works are far from classical although they do borrow some elements. And although his works are representational they are also otherworldly in the most bizarre and wonderful of ways. Seemingly inspired by both traditional painting techniques and movements and kitsch imagery from the seventies and eighties, Beau weaves his own magic with his brushes and oils to create something truly unique. Paintings with darkness, humour, social commentary, melancholy and absurdity. Beau is currently showing at Beinart Gallery as part of Memento Mori, Memento Amare. The exhibition closes November 12.
See available paintings by Beau White.
"Still Death No.1" - Oil on board for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
"I'm interested in, and compelled to, represent the weird, creepy, grotesque and silly in my art. It's how I view and interpret the world. My work could be summarised as playfulness and joy holding hands with fear and the unknown. Iʼm “whistling past the graveyard" —Beau White
Corinne Beinart: Tell us a bit about the body of work featured in Memento Mori, Memento Amare? What inspired this series?
Beau White: When I began thinking about the themes of the show, I decided to veer slightly from the usual iconography and approach things from a more jovial, tongue-in-cheek angle.
I became aware of historical vanitas paintings and was inspired by their stagy and romantic portrayal of mortality. When I further researched vanitas art and the various symbolic devices used to represent the ephemeral nature of life and the futility of existence, I became excited by the textural and conceptual potential for my own work. Bubbles, fruit and flowers in varying states of decay, mirrors and reflective surfaces, coins, hourglasses, candle flames etc. I wanted to create my own absurd brand of vanitas with variations on the theme here and there.
"Kiss Me" - Oil on board for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
Another inspiration for the imagery and colour palette for a number of my pieces, were those gaudy and wonderful cookbooks from the seventies and early eighties. Recipes that combined ingredients that not only sound absurd, but look incredibly disturbing and hilarious! The photos of these homely monstrosities possess a kind of tragicomic nostalgia which, to me, correlate nicely with the death and love themes and also with my take on the vanitas genre.
Within the series of eight paintings there are pairs for each variation on my vanitas/memento mori interpretations. Each coupling featured my partner and co-exhibiter, Isabel Peppard and myself, as the reference models. With the exception of the two “Still Death” pieces, which are based on the 19th century “death mask” tradition; they are both modelled on a life cast of Isabelʼs face. All the figurative elements in the series are reposed to signify death. I find that this gives the work a calm, contemplative quality beyond the vibrant colours, macabre subject matter and humorous elements.
"Vanitas No.2" - Oil on board for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
CB: Your work can be seen as quite thematically dark but there are often hints of the humorous or absurd. Is this purposeful? If so, why?
BW: It acts as a way for me to counter balance, or even accentuate the dark and disturbing elements of my work. I think it adds a unique dimension and point of interest to otherwise fairly simple, straightforward concepts and imagery. Perhaps, to a certain degree, it's an aversion to artistic earnestness. But I'm interested in, and compelled to, represent the weird, creepy, grotesque and silly in my art. It's how I view and interpret the world. My work could be summarised as playfulness and joy holding hands with fear and the unknown. Iʼm “whistling past the graveyard”.
"Chickenpig" - Oil painting by Beau White.
CB: What advice would you give to young artists starting out?
BW: Insert inspirational quote here! I canʼt think of any general advice that I can give to a young artist or an artist of any age and experience level. To be honest, Iʼm not exactly sure how I got from my starting point to now. Persistence, I suppose. I donʼt want to spew forth a whole bunch of vague or over obvious stuff that people can find out through a quick internet search. I can share processes and techniques I use to make art that could be helpful, but these would be in response to specific questions from individuals with an interest in oil painting in a similar style. As far as being an artist in a broader sense, I'm not sure what an artist is exactly or where to even begin!
"Host" - Oil painting by Beau White.
CB: How has your work changed over the years? Do you see how it will progress in the future?
BW: For many years, from the mid 90ʼs, I was working with ink, watercolour and pastels. I was doing cartooning and illustration, line based art and some pop surrealism and portraiture. I started working as a freelance illustrator from the early 2000ʼs and I began oil painting in 2007. Using sculpted elements, human and animal models and domestic backgrounds, I have created all my own photo reference to work from. Since starting with oils, I have developed a lot and am still exploring and expanding my techniques and approach to the medium. The work I am doing now is so challenging and creatively fulfilling, it feels like Iʼm heading in the right direction. I am unsure how my work will progress in the future. I will continue to explore and push myself conceptually, and hope to refine, and gain more confidence in my style and execution.
"Still Death No.2" - Oil on board for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
CB: Whatʼs next? What projects do you hope to be working on in the near future?
BW: I’m excited about three group shows I am participating in at Beinart Gallery throughout 2018. In the new year I will also open an online store on my website, with prints of selected artworks available for purchase. And, I will also be assisting Isabel Peppard to create miniature set pieces and props for fantasy sequences in her documentary film Morgana. Beyond that, I will be planning for a solo show in 2019 and entering work into Australian art prizes.
"Coffin" - Oil on board for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
"Hearse" - Oil on board for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
"Hold Me" - Oil on board for Memento Mori, Memento Amare.
"Thirst" - Oil painting by Beau White.
Beau is currently exhibiting a series of new oil paintings at Beinart Gallery as part of the show Memento Mori, Memento Amare. This exhibit also features new sculptures by Isabel Peppard and etchings by Jonathan Guthmann. The exhibition closes November 12.
]]>Isabel Peppard has been an artistic force of nature since the moment she came into the world. A creator, visionary, provocateur and storyteller. In childhood she absorbed the legends, demons and spirits of Japanese folklore. As a teenager she fronted a successful punk rock band. As a young adult she earned her place in the special effects industry and her influence grew from there. She combined her talents in sculpture, painting, film making, animation to break new ground in the Australian arts and media industry. After working as a silicone technician alongside some of the worlds most celebrated creatives, including animator and director Adam Elliot and hyper-real conceptual artist Patricia Piccinini, Isabel’s unique vision and exceptional skill has seen her become a sought after artist her own right. Now, in addition to her collaborative projects, Isabel spends her time creating haunting and devastatingly realistic sculptural works and directing films and documentaries. Isabel is an award-winning animator and artist who explores the deepest parts of human nature and shines a bright, compassionate and insightful light on the parts of ourselves that society encourages us to hide. Isabel is currently showing at Beinart Gallery as part of Memento Mori, Memento Amare. The exhibition closes November 12.
Available sculptures by Isabel Peppard.
"The Rose" - Silicone & resin sculpture for "Memento Mori, Memento Amare."
“…from an early age I was inspired by Japanese Fairy Tales, ghosts and demons. I remember being initially terrified by the monstrous temple guardians or ‘Nio’ that stood at the temple gates in our hometown of Kamakura. This fear started to become fascination and at some point I stopped being afraid and started emulating them…I’m pretty sure that this is where my love of and kinship with horror and dark surrealism began.”
“Cherub 3: Surrender” - Silicone, wire, resin & artists own hair. For "Memento Mori, Memento Amare."
Corinne Beinart: You are a film-maker and animator as well as an artist. Did all of these aspects of your creative practice emerge simultaneously? Or did one follow from another?
Isabel Peppard: I actually started out as a special effects artist but as I learnt different disciplines associated with the craft such as sculpting, mould making and air brushing, I felt compelled to apply them to my own creative practice rather than using them to work as a technician on films. I was initially using my new found skills to sculpt and build costumes/performances but after working in a few established stop motion animation studios I was inspired to tell my own stories in the form of short animations. Animation was the perfect combination of storytelling and visual art where I could build my own worlds and populate them with weird and wonderful characters.
From Isabel Peppard's award winning animation, "Butterflies."
CB: How do you see your sculptural work as being different from your other creative projects? Is it more personal?
IP: My sculptural work is similar to my filmmaking work in that it is all driven by imagery. Often when I have a theme or idea in the back of my head, the images just start to appear and I interpret them in their roughest form as sketches and then refine them in the sculpts/models. This applies to imagery in my films or scriptwriting as well. I also use narrative in both my sculpted work and the work I do in film and often the sculptures are images that evoke or communicate a narrative. All the creative work I do is extremely personal although film tends to be more collaborative and so everyone else on the crew brings something of their own to the process. I guess in that way my sculpture is more personal in that it is completely controlled by me independently of other input but when I am inside the process of filmmaking it feels just as personal and I go through a similar turbulent emotional journey to get to the finished work.
“Cherub 2: The Ordeal” - Silicone, wire, resin & artists own hair. For "Memento Mori, Memento Amare."
CB: How did you get started in the arts? Where does your creative story begin?
IP: I have weirdly had quite a few different creative lives. When I was a kid I thought I was a poet (ha ha) and then I spent years as a singer in a punk band before getting in to visual arts, performance and finally animation and film. As a young woman I lived in Japan with my parents who were studying Zen Buddhism at the time and from an early age I was inspired by Japanese Fairy Tales, ghosts and demons. I remember being initially terrified by the monstrous temple guardians or ‘Nio’ that stood at the temple gates in our hometown of Kamakura. This fear started to become fascination and at some point I stopped being afraid and started emulating them. I would pose like they did and pretend to be one of them. I was only about 4 or 5 years old at the time but I’m pretty sure that this is where my love of and kinship with horror and dark surrealism began.
IP: At the moment my main project is a feature documentary called ‘Morgana’ (co-directed by Josie Hess). The film is a dark, creative character portrait of a 50 yr old housewife from rural Australia who re-invents herself as a feminist porn star and filmmaker. As always I will be integrating elements of sculpture/miniatures and visual art into the storytelling to give the audience a poetic experience of our lead protagonists internal journey. Apart from that I have a bunch of projects in development stage including a kids horror animated series, a feature live action horror fantasy and a short horror/exploitation film.
Pre-production images of "Demon Parade" by Isabel Peppard.
CB: What advice would you give to young artists just starting in their careers or creative practice?
IP: I would say to enjoy the process as much as possible and find your reward within the process of making and completing work. Don’t be afraid to fail and if you do fail have the courage to get up and give it another shot. Find your people and build a network of folks that you have a genuine creative and personal connection with; your network will grow as you do and hopefully you can all help each other. Persist.
“Cherub 1: The Discovery” - Silicone & resin sculpture for "Memento Mori, Memento Amare."
WIP by Isabel Peppard for "Memento Mori, Memento Amare."
Isabel is currently exhibiting a series of new sculptural works at Beinart Gallery as part of the show Memento Mori, Memento Amare. This exhibit also features new paintings by Beau White and etchings by Jonathan Guthmann. The exhibition closes November 12.
]]>Ben Howe painting "Passage" for his solo exhibition "Weave".
Over nearly two decades, Australian artist Ben Howe has carved a reputation for himself globally with his iconic photo-surrealist oil paintings. Those paintings have made their way across the world into galleries and private collections, in the process eclipsing numerous grants, fellowships and international residencies which have been sent his way.
On the cusp of his new solo exhibition ‘Weave’, Ben Howe took precious time out from the studio, several pieces still in situ and on the easel, the paint literally still wet or on the palette or both, awaiting his return. Over several hours, Ben opened up about some of the most private, shocking and captivating aspects of his life story, his artistic skills and creative processes, which he has generously allowed us to share in the following interview by Luke Barrett on behalf of BeinArt Gallery.
See available paintings by Ben Howe.
Although it is mid-afternoon when we meet, Melbourne’s winter lingers, ensuring a white and charcoal sky. The clouds, like painterly smears of grey, appear stark against the relative fluorescence of an overcast stratosphere.
Inside the bar, Ben Howe is sitting in a corner, partly obscured in the shadows. He cuts a brooding but welcoming figure, alone but at ease: he is already enjoying a drink. A waitress will later leave a tealight and the flicker of its flame will cast shadows which will sway across our table, providing a talking point.
All of this is quite fitting for the internationally-respected Melbourne artist who is renowned for his monochromatic oil paintings which often explore themes of isolation and loneliness through his trade mark photo-surrealism and masterful black-and-white rendering of light and shadows.
Howe’s story is a gripping one. At so many crossroads, he has chosen the road less travelled. Those choices have led him, if not to happiness, to where and to who he is today. He is matter of fact about having sought out adventure in his youth and now, in adulthood, seeking out and confronting personal weakness. Make no mistake though, there is no arrogance here. It is with humility and, I suspect, a degree of unwarranted self-condemnation that he confesses to having made some questionable choices in life. In that regard he observes:
“There are some things that make you stronger. They add colour to your life. But there are others that go a bit far and cause a whole lot of dominoes to fall.”
His life is deserving of an autobiography, one that he once commenced but abandoned because he was not happy with the author’s telling of the story. This reveals something about the critical eye with which he scrutinises all of his work and his pursuit of perfectionism.
Howe is tertiary educated and holds a Masters of Fine Art from RMIT and is a qualified teacher, having taught art and woodwork to high school students. Being highly intellectual, it is obvious that he reflects deeply on his experiences in order to integrate them into his sense of being and his art.
An experience which was as influential as it was harrowing was being kidnapped by a Moroccan drug cartel at the age of 22. Although he is now comfortable discussing the ordeal, Howe self-diagnoses himself as perhaps still suffering a degree of post-traumatic stress.
While back-packing around Europe, Howe ventured south towards Morocco and, while drinking alone, was approached by a local who offered him an opportunity ‘to see the real Morocco’. This was an offer which was too good to refuse for an Australian backpacker. They hailed a taxi, climbed in and travelled for some time, periodically switching taxis and being joined by a rotating cast of motley passengers. Howe realised too late that the other passengers were there to prevent his escape.
There was a moment when the taxi stopped and he found himself in a conversation with other backpackers waiting for a bus. They were the only other travellers he had encountered in Morocco. Perhaps they had a better read of the situation, because they urged Howe to abandon the taxi and to come with them instead, sensing that something was amiss. Fatefully, Howe ignored their encouragement, dismissing the option of bus travel with other foreign travellers as ‘the easy way’. On reflection, he says:
“I felt trapped by my own sensibilities. There was no way I wasn’t going to go further with my abductors, even though I knew it could only end in a bad way.”
Eventually, the taxi and its passengers arrived at a poor village in a remote part of Morocco. It was there that Howe was introduced to the resident drug lord. The extent of his predicament sunk in.
Over four terrifying days, Howe’s kidnappers systematically stole his money, raiding his bank accounts, under threats of violence to himself and his family. Although they would allow him freedom of movement around the village (albeit under the supervision of armed thugs), the consequences of not complying with their demands were gravely clear.
To expedite his co-operation, Howe was marched at gunpoint and shown the already-dug grave where his body would be buried once they had murdered him. To validate the credentials of his kidnappers, Howe was shown the passports of around ten other kidnapped tourists who had apparently suffered a similar fate.
It is remarkable that, even while immersed amongst such adversity, there is still scope for good fortune, of sorts. Fortuitously, Howe avoided being coerced into drug-mule servitude, which had been the final act in his kidnappers’ playbook. Prior to escaping though, his situation had forced his principles and ethics into conflict with his survival instincts. Although the former prevailed, the cognitive dissonance precipitated by the episode had an impact which has stayed with him.
Fearing reprisal, Howe avoided running to the authorities. Without cash, fleeing home to Australia was not an option either. Determined to claw his own way out of the situation, he remained in Europe, enduring periods of homelessness, spending the evenings sleeping on foreign streets, with nowhere to go and no money to get there.
Now he can be philosophical about these experiences.
“Those periods of sleeping rough were pretty wearing. I could never really slip into a deep sleep, as the senses were always primed. Also, it was horrible when the weather was bad. Finding discreet places that were also out of the elements was a lot more difficult than you might think. Looking back though, I’m glad for most of these difficult times, that were largely brought about by my own ignorance. All the discomfort, dirt and anxiety are washed away with the distance of time. I think these kinds of things led to me having more empathy than I otherwise would have had – also an awareness of how easy it is for people to fall once they’ve slipped… and how a city and its machinations can chew people up without a supportive community around them.”
Howe is conscious that the Moroccan incident may have been one of those ‘life is short’ epiphanies and has perhaps served as a catalyst for his art making. His art has evolved dramatically in the period since and he is more driven than ever to create.
Back then, Howe sketched a lot. When he revisits his sketches and photography from that trip, the sketches bring on more nostalgia than the photographs.
In the aftermath of those experiences, his artistic endeavours have pivoted several times. Those endeavours have included a foray into street art in which he pioneered intricate and highly-detailed steam-punk stencils in the years preceding the stencil movement’s ‘big bang’ moment. Howe is philosophical in questioning the timing of his decision to abandon that body of work: who knows where it would have led him had he persevered a little longer and not run out of steam.
Howe even dabbled in film-making for a while, commencing production of a zombie movie. Production was killed at the filming stage and, unlike its characters, has not been resurrected.
Paradoxically, Howe’s experiences of extreme isolation and loneliness – at school, in Morocco or during those homeless periods – have not led him to eschew isolation and loneliness. He neither fears nor embraces them. They find their way into his art: the subject matter, the themes and even the way in which he creates.
Yet these are experiences which for the most part, until now, have been private. Perhaps this has fuelled one of Howe’s philosophical beliefs that ‘it is the things which can’t be seen that are the most interesting’. He adds:
“It’s the device, the ghost, the wind that causes the leaves to blow about that is the real mystery. What drives our curiosity is what lies behind the door, rather than the door itself.”
The emphasis on light and shadow in his work takes on a whole new significance, knowing this. While the casual observer might compliment Howe’s portrayal of light, it would be more apt to commend his use of shadows. Shadows are the absence of light and that which cannot be seen: therein lies the mystery that Howe believes is most interesting to contemplate.
All of us are followed through life by our respective pasts and histories, like a shadow which we can never escape. Sometimes our shadow can fall behind us, out of sight and out of mind – but there nonetheless. At other times our shadow can loom large and fall across the path ahead of us.
Light is concurrently both cause and antidote for any shadow. In this regard, Howe quotes Leonard Cohen who famously quipped, in the lyrics for his song Anthem, that ‘there is a crack in everything, that’s how the light gets in’.
If the shadows of Howe’s experiences have left him cracked, then they are also responsible for the light that shines through, powering his creativity today.
This theme can be seen in his ‘surface variation’ body of work, which I crudely referred to as his ‘slice and dice’ paintings. (Howe was half-amused by the clumsy faux pas.) The subjects in these paintings have literally been cracked apart so that Howe can capture the light shining in and the tell-tale shadows which are cast in the process.
A broken-hearted musician might later find some consolation in the album’s worth of material which they can mine from the aftermath of a break up. And so it is for Howe, who finds that ‘great art doesn’t come from a happy place, it comes from darkness and adversity’.
Co-incidentally, Howe’s creative gifts extend to music and over the years he has played in a number of local bands, such as Kicking the Black Dog, and pursued a number of solo projects. He has been instrumental in recording around thirteen albums, but he humbly points out that none of them were ever officially released by a label. Howe plays guitar, is a vocalist and has an interest in programming and producing.
Like a beautiful sounding song which also has strong lyrics, Howe’s paintings are based on deeply thought-out concepts that have been conceived well in advance. He jokes that there is a thesis worth of ideas and intended meanings behind every painting. Before even picking up a brush, he develops the messages and emotions which he is wanting to convey through the shadows in his paintings.
When the Foo Fighters’ eponymous first album was recorded, Dave Grohl famously played every instrument on the studio recording. There is a touch of this in Howe’s art-making process. He sands his own panels and stretches his own canvasses. Often he sculpts from clay the subjects and objects which will feature in his paintings. After sculpting, Howe then photographs the sculptures. Finally, he paints. It is an impressive array of artistic skills that he brings to bear: the art world’s equivalent of a multi-instrumentalist. Howe jokes that Grohl must have done it because he was a perfectionist.
"Surface Variation 2" - Oil on canvas by Ben Howe.
Although Howe’s paintings may appear to be stand-alone pieces, there is a common thread that secretly connects many of them, beyond their thematic and aesthetic commonalities. Every clay sculpture which Howe has ever sculpted for one of his paintings has been sculpted from the same block of clay. Every one of those sculptures was quickly photographed before the clay could dry so that the sculpture could be collapsed and returned to the block of clay from whence it came. For appreciators of Howe’s work, there might be a sense of loss and tragedy in this seemingly needless destruction of those sculptural pieces – any of which could be collectable pieces of art in their own right. However, it is not done to be mercenary, but rather out of sentimentality. In a very literal and deliberate way, Howe’s artistic process means that each sculpture-based painting contains the artistic genetic material of every sculpture-based painting that has come before it. Howe smiles as he explains his thinking. For him, this tradition shares a similar charm to the old family bread-making tradition of passing down sourdough starter as an heirloom to each subsequent generation, so that future generations can make sourdough from the same sourdough cultures which were first cultivated long ago by their ancestors..
"Ribboned bust" - Oil on canvas by Ben Howe.
The discussion turns to Howe’s upcoming ‘Weave’ exhibition with BeinArt Gallery. Howe has relocated to the seaside town of Mount Eliza, 48 kilometres from Melbourne, while he prepares for the exhibition. For a moment, one senses a wave of exhaustion wash across his expression. Howe works on a large scale and this demands a substantial time commitment to create the number of pieces that comprise a solo exhibition. In typical fashion, he foreshadows what we can expect from this next series of paintings in deeply considered terms.
“I wanted this series of paintings to be full of symbolism and mystery. It was my aim to create a poetic and deceptively simple imagery that allows for the viewer to go as deep as they need to.”
“Although the works themselves simultaneously reference both world events and the rituals of contemporary existence, they’re fused with subconscious echoes. They are triggered by personal sentiments and deeply set memories.”
“I used gothic motifs, fairy tales and archaic tropes to explore the themes of this series; to blur the lines between what is considered the ‘make believe’ and what we believe. Together with the monochrome pallet, these could serve to evoke a nostalgia for another time or the possibility of no time”
“I approached this series during a period of unexplained melancholy, perhaps brought on by the futility and tragedy of current world events. But I wanted to approach the artwork with the tranquillity that comes from walking through a cemetery.”
Some of the photography for the exhibition’s promotional materials show Howe working on one of his new paintings in Mount Eliza, alongside his old compact disc collection. With a sense of nostalgia, we reminisce over an era when it was de rigueur to curate a personal collection of compact discs and arrange them in an order of which even John Cusack’s character in Hi-fidelity would have approved. That was a time of album cover art, lyric booklets and bonus discs of rare material. Howe shares that, having purchased an album, he would deprive himself until the evening before listening to the new acquisition. He would anxiously spend the remainder of the day looking forward to the moment when he could finally sit in bed, open the album and start reading the album booklet. Even then, he would only allow himself to listen to rations of three songs at a time, to extend the thrill of the experience of the new album. Back then, he could not always afford to purchase the album and, if he could procure of a copy of the album, he would redraw the album cover art by his own hand: an early sign of his artistic potential. Some of those hand-drawings would still be amongst his compact disc collection.
The photographer complained that the compact disc collection was in frame - nobody has compact discs anymore – so Howe was told to move the collection out of the light and into the corner.
There are so many interesting things in the shadows which cannot be seen.
Ben Howe’s exhibition, Weave, opens on 23 September 2017 at Beinart Gallery in Brunswick, Victoria.
This interview was written by Luke Barrett for Beinart Gallery in September 2017.
Luke Barrett is a Melbourne-based art collector with a keen interest in writing poetry, photography, philosophy, cosmology and quantum physics. He has a particular interest in the origin of the multiverse, the emergence of intelligent life and associated creation myths. When allowed, he ponders the role of free will in a causalistic universe.
Barrett is a writer for the print edition of Beautiful Bizarre Magazine and has interviewed many of the world’s leading new contemporary and pop surreal artists.
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Hannah Yata painting in her studio.
Hannah Yata weaves nature, feminine imagery, and other elements into pieces that can both soothe and challenge: while her paintings are beautiful, often with a candy colour palette, they also confront us with complex perspectives on humans and their world. Sometimes wry and sometimes shocking, Yata’s work is invariably arresting.
“I think an image that arrests us, takes hold of our mind long after we have left its presence, and causes us to look at something deep within ourselves trying to search for the meaning—I think that is magic, and that’s the kind of magic that can make a difference in the world.” —Hannah Yata
See available paintings by Hannah Yata.
Eden - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
Julie Antolick Winters: What started you on the path to creating art?
Hannah Yata: I think it started as a search. I had always dabbled with art making as a child and adolescent, making comics, drawing little animals and looking at the paintings in bible study books. As I grew up, I met a lot of obstacles, and making art was the biggest thing I turned to for solace. When I began to study art in college and work with oils, that’s when a passion turned into an obsession.
JAW: Your bio on your website notes that you studied psychology and feminism alongside art in college. It’s clear that psychology and women feature heavily in your work, and I imagine that your studies in college were at least a beginning in weaving these things together. But was there a time that you considered a non-artistic path pursuing either of those subject areas?
HY: Yes, for a while I gravitated more to the rational idea of being coming a doctor of some kind—particularly psychology. However, my propensity for memorising facts and regurgitating a lot of information wasn’t something I was inclined to with a subject that tended to discuss a lot of dry material. I realised quickly I just wanted to create visually and psychologically liberating work and that I could do my studying, reading and writing on the side.
Left: Honey, Right: Gentle - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: Tell us about how your work evolved to explore the natural world as well as the status of women.
HY: I had felt it in my early years becoming a woman. I saw myself through other people’s eyes, judging other women by those “other” eyes, too. Glamour magazines showed us how we should look: tempting, wanting, hot, sexual, untouchable, and mostly all of the above: the Madonna/whore. It entrenched itself into my psyche, and I began to hate my body, hate my clothes and hate everything that couldn’t give me the security that I needed as a young girl.
Then I took a class, an art history class, that discussed the course of history and how women’s bodies had been portrayed and the psychology behind it. I was hooked. I kept looking; I needed to hear the truth. Then I found Eve Ensler. I think her compassion for other women caught me off guard in a way that I had never encountered. I pored through her books and tried to find her talks on the Internet. When I found her stories about her fight with cancer and how the years of traveling, testimonies from other women, her battle with her self-image destroyed her body, it broke the idea that had been knocking at the door of my consciousness for a while: the body of the woman was an extension of the earth.
Control meant to keep [a woman] preoccupied with her body, to use the people that surrounded her to shame her if she went out of line. It wasn’t just men; it was other women, too. Women were shamed by men and women alike for not conforming to ideas of beauty or tradition. The woman was cut and manicured, she was altered and packaged for consumption. Likewise, the landscapes bulldozed, mountains flattened, and forests leveled to for us to find the materials we needed for our machine. Nature was to serve humans, as women were to please others.
Daughters - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: Do you feel that these simultaneous themes point to an overarching theme?
HY: I’m under the impression that humans keep looking for spirituality for a reason. They find themselves vulnerable to religion, ideology, gurus and shamans to lead them to enlightenment or a closer relationship with a god. Maybe this is the conspiracy of it all, that instead of looking up for god, “god” was beneath our feet and all around us. She was hiding; they were hiding—in the forests, trees, rocks, water and air. It’s birth and death, magic and mystery, connection and disconnection. I get the sense that it starts to point to our existence as crazy blundering children in the midst of an ancient world.
Cacophony - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: How has your thinking about the topics depicted in your paintings changed, if at all, as you’ve examined them through your art?
HY: I think they’ve changed in certain ways. Maybe subtle ways, and maybe it’s just my attitude. I think before I was more focused on the woman and her appearance and place and society as it related to man. Now, I feel like I’m slowly finding the language of nature, the feminine, and peering into the concept of what it means to be wild and the energy that exemplifies that force.
Fire Child - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: The use of masks in your paintings is compelling; the masks seem to both de-personify the women and humanise the animals. Would you say that there is an element of humanity hiding from itself in your work?
HY: The mask is a simple idea, probably used since humans came together thousands of years ago. I think its root run deep: it speaks to our subconsciousness; it allows us to become something else for a little while. It lets us step into the shoes of another being, whether that be deity or demon—maybe even what some would call the shadow self. The freedom that’s felt behind the mask is a wild, primal one. It touches at the heart at what we feel is behind and around us—that something of an “otherness,” perhaps the invariable flicker of madness that is alive within us all.
Sublime Madness - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: In an interview with buzzworthy, you said that your greatest dream is to make a difference and to make a masterpiece. Do you see art as a vehicle for making a difference through the ideas you’re trying to communicate?
HY: I do. I think art has its power, and that’s in the image. When we think, we think in pictures and stories, not so much in words or symbols. I think an image that arrests us, takes hold of our mind long after we have left its presence, and causes us to look at something deep within ourselves trying to search for the meaning—I think that is magic, and that’s the kind of magic that can make a difference in the world.
Bloom - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: I know you like to leave the interpretations of the pieces up to the viewers, but do you feel you know the whole story of a painting before you begin it, or does it reveal itself to you during its creation?
HY: That’s a great question, and sometimes it varies. I used to come up with a whole story before I did my pieces but quickly realised I was suffocating my creative freedom by doing so. The more I painted, the more I trusted my intuition and the flickers of images that would reoccur in my mind. It frequently happens that I see something and feel like I’m chasing a ghost of fragments and symbolism trying to figure out what an image was telling me. As I look back on the paintings I’ve created in the past 5 to 6 years, I can see something that was fighting to emerge. Before I could say it was a lot of personal stuff, but now I’m under the impression I feel more like an observer to something bigger.
Aether - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: Some elements, such as butterflies, recur in several pieces. How do you decide what elements to incorporate into a piece?
HY: It’s pretty hard to figure out what a piece needs, but I guess that’s why they tend to take so long. So if you consider pieces like Daughters, The Moors and The Donner Party, for example, they all have butterflies in them. Daughters is heavier and darker in subject matter, talking about the mutilation and death of women and elephants. The Chalkhill Blue butterflies were chosen because of their mystical wispy appearance along with the idea that the figures are going through some sort of transition. With The Moors, a bit of an older piece, the monarchs were not only there as an aesthetic choice but could also be talked about in terms of genetic memory and the willpower of something so fragile. In The Donner Party, butterflies are incorporated to point to food sources around while the flock of birds has decided to attack each other.
The Insanity Defense - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: I was excited to learn that you’d had an internship with Martin Wittfooth—he’s one of my favourite painters—and Adam Miller. How did that come about, and what was the most valuable thing you carried from your time with them?
HY: Yes, they are both amazing artists!
I found Martin online when I was in college in 2011. I had begged my teachers to tell me how he was able to paint like he did, and they said, “Go ask him for an internship.” So I asked, he accepted, and [he] introduced me to Adam Miller since Adam also needed some help around the studio.
The most valuable lesson they taught me was vision and persistence. It wasn’t explicitly said, but I could see it every day I went to help Martin or Adam. They were smart, passionate and loved what they did, and you could feel it.
Polymorphous - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: You have spoken in interviews about the dangers of trying to please others when making art. How do you balance the need to market and sell with the need to listen to your own voice?
HY: I think when I used to have another job to support me, that helped me find my voice and lose my fear of whether or not I would make money. I was surprised when my fish-headed women got so much attention, but I didn’t want to stop there. I knew there was more beneath it, so I keep digging and keep trying to find the meat of the matter. When I quit my full-time job, I balanced the work that I feel compelled to do with commissions. I don’t tend to take many commissions, but they are usually what I would call “safe:” something based on what I’ve done already and isn’t super challenging. When I approach of a body of work I make for myself, the last thing I worry about is “is it going to sell?” So between the two, I try to keep them separate but balanced.
Left: Diaphonia, Right: Harvest - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: Do you have any thoughts about the use of social media as a tool for both promoting and accessing art—the positives as well as any pitfalls?
HY: I see the pattern of many artists that get attention for one thing and then they become terrified of expounding on that vision for fear of losing their audience. I believe the Internet is a powerful thing: for the first time in history we almost have no excuse not to put our stuff out there and try to be our own boss. I think the goal is not to get too wrapped up in the numbers and the attention that it becomes an addiction that distracts you from making your best work.
JAW: What might a viewer be surprised to learn about you as an artist?
HY: They might be surprised how much I actually work!
Do Not Resuscitate - Oil on canvas by Hannah Yata.
JAW: Is there anything you’d like to tell our readers about what’s coming up on the horizon for you, e.g., any new shows or themes you’re working on?
HY: I’m working a two-person show [at Parlor Gallery, Asbury Park, NJ] with my husband [Jean Pierre Arboleda] this fall about the origins of Christianity/religion and the mushroom. Jean Pierre’s work tends to be sweeter and mine a little more disconcerting, but I can see we are feeding off each other’s energy, so from the paintings we’ve already put together, I know it’s going to be a lot of fun!
Solo show-wise, I’m grappling some larger paintings/themes that I’m trying to work out. Hopefully, I’ll be able to unveil some of them by April of next year.
The Confidante - Oil on Canvas by Hannah Yata.
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in 2017.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
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John Brosio uses traditional painting to portray the relationship of people to their environment in very nontraditional terms. With elements both funny and foreboding, his work captures what people so often miss: the awe that should be inspired by some very large thing we’re overlooking and our arrogant inflation of our own place within the universe. Brosio’s paintings challenge us to not get stuck in the milieu of the everyday but to see the beautiful and sometimes terrible things around us.
“Any art is in the end going to rely on how much can be realized with a simultaneous maintenance of the relationships involved. To what extent, for instance, can someone be both 100% careful and 100% reckless? To what extent can one choreograph a dance between gravity and levity and not only that but also get it ‘right’ such that audience members (including myself) immediately connect with the experience?” —John Brosio
Corinne Beinart: First, I was wondering where you grew up? I ask because sometimes we are as influenced by places as much as by people.
John Brosio: I grew up in South Pasadena, CA. It is just wonderful. I was very lucky.
C: It seems to me that lots of the more recent works of yours depict nature (or the forces of) as the "big bad" and the human subjects being quite oblivious to the happenings around them. I get similar feelings to those that I get when I read Sagan's description of "the pale blue dot" or Edgar Mitchell's statement about grabbing politicians by the scruff of the neck, forcing them to look back at the earth and shouting, "Look at that, you son of a bitch!" People so consumed by the ordinary that they seem blind to the extraordinary power and complexity of the universe that surrounds them. In BFF and Fatigue 2, Queen of Suburbia, Terrarium, Definition and Definition 2, to name a few, I truly feel the same sentiments as Edgar Mitchell—wanting to grab the subjects and force them to turn around! I wonder if a similar frustration was part of what prompted these pieces?
J: Wow—I am so giddy to have Sagan mentioned at all. He is my hero. And I would definitely say that he has informed my inquiry as much as any actual artist. I love Pale Blue Dot and gave copies of it to all my friends that Christmas just after he died. But while the people in my work do indeed seem oblivious to what is going on, it could also be that they are actually comfortable with what is going on too. In the paintings Definition and Definition 2, for instance, I feel that those are self-portraits more than anything and that the figure is very much aware of what is happening. On the flip side, another take is that folks these days are just barely able to get their creature comforts in order and really don’t have any leisure or exploration time left over. But the “elephant in the room” could easily be the economy, gang violence, the environment—all of it is bigger than us. But I do very much get frustrated in life, in conversations, when folks insist on having one another focus on things that just don’t make sense anymore. Or that don’t matter. Like the arguments over gay marriage, marijuana, or people actually rising from the dead. I mean, give me a goddamn break—the really bright people in the background right now are talking about the oceans dying around 2048. Seriously. As in things like tuna, salmon, sharks, swordfish—all of it being only a memory. And I didn’t make that up—go look it up! Who cares about some stupid fantasy like the Immaculate Conception when reality coughs up a problem like that?!
C: Following on from the previous question, is your work influenced by the enormity of our planet’s current environmental predicament and the blind eye most of us take in favor of our immediate creature comforts?
J: All I know is that the most respected scientists almost unanimously agree that global climate change is real, not political. If you want my opinion, it might be nice to address the remaining aspects of any culture that foster a sense of shame for not reproducing. That would be a good start for the planet. Yesterday.
C: I wonder about the lighting in a lot of your work. To me it seems like it is often dawn or dusk, the "in between" times. Is this purposeful?
J: Very much so. That twilight zone is just magical to me. It’s when things get figured out. I don’t know why so many of us are compelled by this time of day, but it speaks to transition and variety, maybe. It is when we can see the ingredients of everything, when the sun and planets share the visible sky, the trees with the stars, some animals waking up while others go to sleep. Recall too that before electricity, this was our own goodbye to the day. It is the way we were designed.
C: Earlier you mentioned that the figures in your work are aware of what is going on behind them and quite comfortable with it. Perhaps, there is something serene about a reaching the point where you can accept your fate?
J: Very interesting—why, do you conclude that the presence of something larger necessarily connects to fate or mortality? A lot of folks immediately see impending death in my tornadoes or giant animals but I think that this is incidental. It is my guess that those giant things represent one end of a gamut to which death is incidental. I think that a lot of folks walking through my paintings are alive the next day and that those “giant” elements are always in some kind of proximity. It is a painting of a daily dynamic, I think.
Except, of course, for the dead banker being eaten by dinosaurs. That piece has become quite popular.
C: I suppose I didn't mean fate as is in a final fate (death/mortality). The characters in the images continue existing with these "giants" nearby and remain aware of their presence. They accept it as their fate: to coexist with the "monsters" and the “big bad things.”
J: Nice! They aren’t always conscious of the giants but always in proximity I guess. Agreed—on the same page for sure. But the truly big things right now, like all the fish dying around 2050, aren’t being talked about as much as they will be.
C: You mentioned earlier the work depicting the banker being devoured by dinosaurs. I read elsewhere that you have said that that was the only painting you remember being inspired by anger. Do you recall if there was a particular event that provoked those feelings?
J: Oh, for sure—the financial collapse relating to the housing market. There was deliberate fraud there but no prosecution. Kind of a pisser. The “experts” can go on and on about how convoluted it all was, how nuanced and complex it all was but then why was the homeowner left holding the bag by themselves in the end? Don’t talk to me about nuance until the right people get hurt.
C: I'd like to touch back on the underbelly of suburban America, and the things that hide in plain sight. I'm curious to hear your perspective on this as it is something that I find so striking about your work.
J: But “the underbelly of suburban America”—one can go on and on about this. And it is definitely at the core of what I am considering in “that daily dynamic." The weirdest thing to me is that so many people here in America seem to acknowledge the creepiness that can come with suburban life but openly pursue and perpetuate it nonetheless. Now I’m not talking about healthy neighborhoods. What I’m talking about is what happens when folks get enough money, get a family, get a house, get a car, etc., like “everyone else" and conclude that because of this success, what they think of the world must therefore be correct, no matter what it is. I know of specific individuals who (or did) abuse, molest, terrify their children with lies, commit harmful crimes—folks who “know” that Earth is only about 6, 000 years old, folks who make major decisions based on superstition or astrology—all of whom have giant suburban homes with the boat outside, swimming pool, etc., and have BBQ’s right across the street. THAT to me is the creepiness. And it leads to decay and ignorance. I think that all of this still comes from a post-war (WW2) mentality in which no one wanted to look at anything at all unpleasant. And it also comes from an economy which values only how well someone is trained as opposed to what they know. But there is so much written on this topic.
C: I am also curious to hear which of your works seem to have drawn the biggest (or most surprising) response from your audience?
J: But to single out paintings for which there has been the most response? Hard to say. Hmmm. I think any image in which I “got it right” tends to draw the most attention. And while folks might believe it to be the subject matter they are drawn to, I very much feel that it is the relationships and ratios of one dynamic to another. After School, State of the Union, Whole Foods, Edge of Town and Fatigue get a lot of attention.
C: The works you mentioned are fascinating! I can see why most of those get the attention, but I wonder why After School makes such an impact? Can you expand on what you mean when you say people respond to the "relationships and ratios of one dynamic to another”?
J: I never know exactly why one painting generates more feedback than another. But I think that it very much relates to what I am saying above, to a more successful orchestration of elements. Any art is in the end going to rely on how much can be realized with a simultaneous maintenance of the relationships involved. To what extent, for instance, can someone be both 100% careful and 100% reckless? To what extent can one choreograph a dance between gravity and levity and not only that but also get it “right” such that audience members (including myself) immediately connect with the experience? Those are the concerns in the end. And they are very abstract concerns. In this piece you selected, After School, note, for instance, that small purplish tree in the foreground. Look at how I needed that in order to alleviate what would have been a very clumsy 1:1 event between the boxy house and swirling sky. That little tree, in its tiny eclipse, introduces a chance of complexity and pattern---maybe even a kind of calm.
C: John, I am really interested to hear whose work you find exciting and inspiring right now?
J: I just discovered a composer named Steve Stucky who I am exploring. Penderecki and Ligeti are still favorites. Listening to a lot of John Coltrane lately, too. In film there is not too much grabbing me at the moment, but I feel a lot of us filmgoers “waiting” for someone to get it right again. I did enjoy The Force Awakens, though I would have turned it on its head at the last second by having the good guys FAIL to destroy the battle station. Looking too at painter Elmer Bischoff. And you should look at an artist named Amy Bennett.
C: How do you see your practice and vision progressing from here?
J: As for what comes next, I am trying things. Increasing the range. I do not know how it will manifest, but nothing is out of bounds. I have found that one needs to be not only reaching for something but running from something as well in order to have any focus.
Chris Leib is an American fine-artist and graduate of anthropology, renowned for his iconography of Bonobo chimps and astronauts and cosmonauts, often juxtaposed, with exquisite technique and scrupulous attention to detail. Transcending whimsy, his paintings are laden with meaning and intellectual contemplation. Chris’ work explores themes of heroism, human endeavour and the sensitivity of human hopes and ambitions to possible realities of science-fact. His work challenges us to contemplate a collision of science-fiction, reality and religion, this three-car pile-up viewed from the vantage point of our evolutionary ancestors who have quietly continued to evolve themselves.
“Our own position in the evolutionary scheme is potentially precarious, especially if our actions are petulant and impulsive. The Bonobo in these scenes feels like she is reigning in the little space child, trying perhaps to preserve the path started long ago by their common ancestor.” —Chris Leib
See available paintings by Chris Leib.
Luke Barrett: Chris, there's one question I've been dying to ask you for a long time, so I'm just going to come right out and hit you with it, straight off the bat: what's with all the Bonobo chimps? Are you just really passionate about chimpanzees? Is this body of work the equivalent of your own private Gorillas In the Mist? Or have you chosen the Bonobo for something else which they represent?
Chris Leib: Ha! Less Fossey, more Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan … or maybe I should say, Grey*brush*stroke … [gestures hitting a snare drum with a paint brush]
LB: Ha! I’m going to take that as a reference to Dian Fossey in Gorillas in the Mist… but just in case, I’m going to keep my Fossie Bear antics to a minimum from here on! And perhaps we can pass over the loin cloth thing (and when I say, ‘pass over’, I mean ‘skip’, not ‘hand over’). Wocka wocka. Seriously though, tell me more about the Bonobos.
CL: At one point in a series I was doing called Sabotaging Eden, I thought to paint a pieta theme of an astronaut holding a Bonobo. After some sketches it turned into a Madonna and Child theme, with the Bonobo holding a baby astronaut. The metaphor really stuck, as it had many levels and it touched me on a very personal level that I didn’t understand at the time. When I was a child there was a pet supply store near where I grew up that kept a Bonobo in a tiny cage. He sat and rocked neurotically all day long, distressed to the point of madness. I wanted to let that poor guy out, I was furious. The adults ignored my requests, it seemed pointlessly cruel. I’m sure my interest in apes began then, and eventually I studied anthropology in college.
In Western history, apes were basically seen as degenerate humans or deformed humans - products of sin. They were portrayed as mischievous and imitating the less graceful human behaviors. This past representation still persists, but today they are also seen as representing one end of our evolutionary trajectory. Artistically, this portrayal is very useful when contrasted with technologically advanced humans.
Far from primal humans, Bonobos have evolved parallel to us, they are fully equipped for their environments. I initially introduced the Bonobos to mimic and ‘misrepresent’ moments in Western history, knowing of course that they will be viewed as one end of an evolutionary spectrum. But rather than portray them in a mischievous bacchanalian role, I flipped that narrative, portraying them as wise and mature.
LB: Another recurring icon or symbol in your work is that of the astronaut or cosmonaut. If I can ask you a similar question to what I asked about Bonobos: does this simply reflect an interest of yours or perhaps even a childhood dream, or have you chosen astronauts and cosmonauts for some deeper, symbolic purpose?
CL: I was lucky enough to see the tail end of the Apollo launch programs, that and Star Trek were big events at our house.
The astronaut and cosmonaut represent our civilization’s highest aspirations and achievements. They were irreproachable modern heroes. Initially I thought to place the spacemen in historic settings, acting as provocateurs to influence events, sowing chaos that was hidden by humorous antics, their maligned actions and appearance contrasting their heroic status. I started with Eden, the mythical birthplace of Western culture. It sort of stuck and grew from there. Once I introduced the Bonobos, the space hero took a diminutive infantile form. Though still mischievous, the space hero’s provocations were impulsive rather than planned.
LB: I have noticed that you tend to be quite particular in describing these characters as being “astronauts” and “cosmonauts”. Is that just an exercise in post Cold War diplomacy, or are you deliberately introducing some ambiguity about their point of origin? Or perhaps you are making a statement about how irrelevant international boundaries are - or should be - when it comes to great human pursuits, like space exploration?
CL: The latter. Space explorers are universal heroes, their aspirations extend beyond national boundaries. The Apollo moon landings were celebrated around the globe. Most cultures have looked to the heavens and wondered. The heavens capture our imaginations. When you think about it, the notion of a hero relies on our imagination. What makes astronauts and cosmonauts such powerful heroic symbols is that they explore at the boundaries of possibilities.
The converse of that possibility is also powerful. What if there is a limit, an economic or technological governor, that makes it impossible for any species to leave solar systems? When you let that possibility sink in, that no life in the universe has ever in billions of years left their solar systems… That the necessary advancements to achieve interstellar travel would end up devastating a species in the process … that thought is sort of debilitating. After all, we humans have always operated on Icarian impulses. Even though it’s nothing we would see in our lifetime, if we knew that was the case, would that change everything for us?
In it’s incubation, Sci-fi imagined a higher destiny for the species. It is the quasi religious wing in the time and rise of science. So much of that fiction over the last 40 years has hedged towards dystopia. This pursuit to explore is a human trait, beyond artificial boundaries, but we are at a place with our collective imagination where exploration is focused on various paths of avoiding human demise.
LB: Earlier on you mentioned the pieta and Madonna and Child theme from your Sabotaging Eden body of work. Your astronauts, cosmonauts and Bonobos cross paths quite often, with the Bonobo generally in a position of dominance or influence. What are your thoughts on the relationship between your astronauts, cosmonauts and Bonobos? And why are the astronauts and cosmonauts child-like in scale?
CL: The diminutive astronauts originated as a form of Christ child or space-age Savior symbol, held by the mother, the primal mother, Bonobo. It was based upon Madonna Child imagery of the early renaissance. The primal versus the civilized, Dionysian versus Apollonian, are conjured up in the juxtaposition, but reversed in the characterization. The astronauts are diminutive and infantile, prone to tantrum. They are held, comforted, parented by the ‘primitive’ Bonobos. I wanted to flip the expected relationship, having the Bonobos appear as dominant and civilizing, the astronauts as infantile. Our own position in the evolutionary scheme is potentially precarious, especially if our actions are petulant and impulsive. The Bonobo in these scenes feels like she is reigning in the little space child, trying perhaps to preserve the path started long ago by their common ancestor.
LB: If you had to make a cinematic analogy to the themes in this body of work, would you reference the apes and David Bowman's astronaut character from Stanley Kubrik's 2001: A Space Odyssey? Or perhaps a Planet of the Apes type paradigm? In 2001: A Space Odyssey, the apes and the astronaut are at the opposite ends of an incomplete evolutionary spectrum; whereas in Planet of the Apes they represent parallel or alternate evolutionary possibilities, and in the sequels the apes become astronauts themselves. Or have I taken an interpretative wrong turn and ended up in tangent-city?
CL: It would probably fall more in line with Kubrick’s 2001. I don’t want to go near the time travel loop complications of Planet of the Apes! Both movies were a large influence growing up… but I’m not specifically commenting on either film. The star child parallels were unintended but quickly apparent after my first painting of the Bonobo with Space Baby.
I’m interested in how science fiction parallels the political atmosphere of it’s times. Godzilla follows Hiroshima, Monsters are Due on Maple Street follows the McCarthy era, Romero’s Night of the Living Dead follows the Civil Rights Movement, his sequels follow the Consumerism gone mad of the 80s, and so on. There’s been a lot of dystopian sci-fi since the 70s. Dystopian fiction assumes a posture of warning, of a need for prevention… by it’s very presentation, it is tied to hope. We have arrived at the murky ground where these worlds of fiction and reality conflate and blur. In my life, we’ve gone from 3 channels on black and white TVs to self-driving cars, robotics, drones, environmental disasters, and all the conjurations of fictional corporate states on the horizon. To me, an American, the self-driving car is in many ways the capstone of the creeping movement of dystopian visions that the most prophetic writers of science fiction speculated on decades ago. So, from here on, is science fiction a dead genre, or is it the new naturalism?
LB: With science fiction and reality conflating, what implications does this have for religion, because I have detected some religious symbology in this body of work? We have already touched on the Madonna and Child imagery in your work, and your last exhibition at Beinart Gallery included a painting of a Bonobo cradling an astronaut holding a crayon-drawing of God; and you have just completed a painting for the upcoming group show at Beinart Gallery of a Bonobo cherub with angel wings. Are you calling out the tension between the Genesis creation story and Darwinian evolution? Or perhaps you are even offering a reconciliation of the two - because if they were both to be true, and if a maker created life in their own image, that would certainly explain the presence of hirsute angels! No doubt your background in anthropology would put you in an informed position to make an artistic statement about the emergence of creation myths in different societies and cultures, which is possibly an extremely human propensity that we may or (more probably) may not share with Bonobos.
CL: I’m certainly making light of the idea of a creation in a maker’s image, giving a wink and nod to evolution. Imagine you got to heaven and… ‘Grape Ape!’
Literal interpretations of creation and other folklore are doomed for failure or require heavy costs to prop up. These tales are cultural building blocks. Forms of the Genesis story are preceded in other myths, for example, Gilgamesh. And setting aside neo-platonic explanations, which might be revived soon enough given today’s climate, these stories are reflections of our psyche and collective histories. One view is that Genesis can be looked at as a sort of nostalgia for cave dwelling times: a story of innocence before humans left the warmth and security of the cave, embarking on the unknown project of agriculture and civilization.
The cross-culture parallels in tales should make it clear that they are outside the property of any one religion, that such stories are not fact but folklore. New myths continue to be made, churned out in similar formulas. Even without organized pantheons to worship, we humans would create our own, reflections of our cultures. Look at the rise of comic book superheroes post the second world war. In an age of science, these are basically new saints. They have creation stories, many birthed from science rather than spiritual events. The heroes have special powers, like the miracles of saints. They protect the weak who reach out to them for help. Sometimes their motives are to redeem themselves in the eyes of society. Storytelling defines the human species. It is important to our cultures and our self-conception.
LB: The other piece you have created for the group show at BeinArt Gallery is called Reward Compliance: here we see a lone Bonobo as a traveller through space, or perhaps through time, or both. Is this intended to be an evolutionary synthesis or merger of the themes that we have been discussing? For me, it is as if the astronaut and Bonobo are finally revealed as one, or as one continuation of a shared evolutionary spectrum: freed of the artificial dichotomy, the spacesuit can be shed, revealing its true identity.
CL: I conceived it as the primal space traveller, both a celestial and neurological mastermind. He is both in the mind and outside the universe, but unknown to us, pulling the levers in a sort of pavlovian lab, offering carrot and sticks, demanding compliance and offering rewards. In the background there is a tunnel of complex supports and structure that led to this ‘control’ station. As I painted it I never determined if that complex path was the labyrinth of a space ship or a metaphor for the brain. But I did see the creature as an ancestral god, so deep in the maze of the psyche that he is forgotten.
LB: The Bonobo in Reward Compliance is not like other Bonobos, however - this Bonobo only has one eye. Is this a reference to Norse Mythology? According to Norse mythology, Odin sacrificed one of his eyes in exchange for gaining cosmic knowledge and wisdom. Or perhaps you are channeling the cyclops from Homer's Odyssey, hinting at some obstacle in an attempt to return home - perhaps our original home, a Garden of Eden? Because we know Eden was a previous body of work for you.
CL: I was initially thinking of Odin, as this was the creature in control, the top dog. But this character is more cycloptic, the eye above the nose, as in some portrayals of the Greek cyclops. But the cyclops can also be seen in that light, one of cosmic power at least. They helped Zeus obtain power, forging his lightning bolts, so in a way they were a source of cosmic power. The original cyclops were builders and craftsmen to the gods. I use this reference a fair amount. In the painting Thoroughbred, for example. It’s a painting of a purple skinned, blue haired ape, another character in the simian pantheon, that has two colored eyes. The lighter one being blind.
The one eyed creature translates a 3D world into 2D, into graphic form. While such a creature can’t catch a baseball very well, they are positioned to step back from the 3D world, they have to analyze the world in order to operate in that environment. The single eye translates and maps the world. That is their power. The monocular position, a vantage point of special knowledge… that emanates and is absorbed by a single point and perspective. It’s a form used in cult and conspiracy related symbolism. In this case I thought that since this being was perhaps in the mind, he might in a sense be the ‘minds eye’.
LB: I couldn't help but notice that the one-eyed Bonobo has six fingers. Is this another homage to Darwinian evolution and adaptation? For a one-eyed Bonobo to survive in the world, having to translate three dimensions into two dimensions, as you were saying, it would need to adapt and an additional finger might just give it that edge that it needs to survive!
CL: Great observation! I didn’t specifically think of it that way. I wanted it to be viewed as an ape whose status is otherworldly. The sixth finger had a playful appeal, like a child’s drawing that adds an extra finger. One thought was that since this creature would be dealing with so many buttons and levers, that it made sense he would have an extra finger to handle all that. So yes, in that way, it was an adaption!
LB: That’s the second time you’ve made the ‘child-like’ point. The child-like extra finger, and the child-like crayon drawing of God. Is that just a coincidence, or is there something about a 'child's eye' view of the world that you feel drawn to?'
CL: The sixth finger reminded me of small, often unnoticed, additions or subtractions of appendages that one finds in children's drawings. I liked that it was a distinguishing trait, but something that wouldn't necessarily be seen right away.
The stick figure in Drawing God with a Crayon was obviously purposeful, it can be seen different ways... conceived as an abstraction, the idea of it as conceived in our image, the absurdity of our attempt to grasp the infinite. Perhaps the Bonobo looks up in resignation at human self-flattery to conceive God as standing upright? Or perhaps at the futility of our attempt?
LB: Thank you for sharing so many insights about your new pieces, Chris. I sense you have been pretty busy in the studio lately – before we part ways, are you able to give us any hints about what you might have in the pipeline?
CL: I have new works in several group shows: the Small Works show just opened at beinArt Gallery. There’s a group show Flower Child at Modern Eden in San Francisco, and If Our Days Won’t Last at Distinction Gallery, curated by Jon Jaylo in the Fall. Then I’ll being moving studios and taking a few months to concentrate on larger paintings in preparation for 2018 and 2019.
Mind Games - Oil on panel by Chris Leib
This interview was written by Luke Barrett for Beinart Gallery in August 2017.
Luke Barrett is a Melbourne-based art collector with a keen interest in writing poetry, photography, philosophy, cosmology and quantum physics. He has a particular interest in the origin of the multiverse, the emergence of intelligent life and associated creation myths. When allowed, he ponders the role of free will in a causalistic universe.
Barrett is a writer for the print edition of Beautiful Bizarre Magazine and has interviewed many of the world’s leading new contemporary and pop surreal artists.
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Adrian Cox is a painter, scholar, philosopher and one compelling teller of stories. His paintings depict a vast and secret world of peaceful ‘border creatures’ which exist within a serene and tranquil ecosystem, known as the Borderlands. Cox’s body of work represents a mythology, a mythology that he has thoughtfully, meticulously and incrementally evolved. Like so many mythologies, though the central characters may not be human, the message is nevertheless ultimately a human one: an allegory for who we are, what we came from and what could perhaps one day be.
For his next exhibition, Sensory Garden, Cox wanted to paint dreams, desire and the quest for knowledge and self-understanding. “Sensory Garden” opens at BeinArt Gallery in Melbourne on 3 June 2017.
“I think that now more than ever, people are sensitive to the ways that we build divisions, the ways that we mark groups of people as undesirable, as unknown and unwanted… the vision that I’m crafting suggests an alternative path, another way that we, as humans, might view and treat each other.” —Adrian Cox
See available artworks by Adrian Cox.
Luke Barrett: Adrian, there’s a lot of excitement about your upcoming show at BeinArt Gallery in Melbourne, Australia and I understand this might in fact be one of your first solo shows outside of the United States. That said, Melbourne collectors have felt rather spoiled in recent times, with a number of your works appearing in group shows here over the last couple of years. Is there a story there, about how your art started making fairly regular pilgrimages to Melbourne?
Adrian Cox: I think Jon Beinart first became aware of my work through online features that I was receiving, but he reached out to me after seeing a painting of mine in person at Corey Helford Gallery in Los Angeles. My work reproduces well digitally, but as you well know, there’s a lot that goes on in my paintings that has to be seen in the flesh; not only in the amount of details, which I’ve tried to push to a new level in this exhibition, but also in the way that I layer transparent colors to create lighting effects. Since seeing my work in person, Jon and Corinne have been incredibly supportive in providing me with a platform to show new paintings, particularly with this new exhibition!
LB: As it turns out, I was with Jon and Corinne Beinart when the crates of your new works started being delivered. When we started breaking open the crates, one of the things that struck me was the sheer number of paintings that you have created for this next exhibition. As an artist, what is it like to invest so much time and creative effort into preparing for an exhibition, only to pack them all up and ship them to the other side of the planet? Do you ever experience an attachment to your pieces, or are you fairly good at setting them free, releasing them into the wild, so to speak?
AC: Shipping work out is always a little nerve-wracking, but I honestly can’t think of anything more exciting than releasing these new paintings into the world. As you can imagine, my work takes a considerable amount of labor to make, so I’ve pretty much been living like a hermit in my studio for the past few months. Although I become very personally invested in my work during this part of the process, a painting isn’t really complete for me until it’s seen the light of day. One of the most gratifying parts of my artistic practice is getting to see how people connect to the world that I’m building! And I’m thrilled to be able to visit Australia and see the show in person!
LB: I understand that you hold a bachelor and masters qualification in fine arts. What is involved in achieving those qualifications? Were your studies focused mostly on the history of art, interpreting art, the different techniques or the actual act of painting itself… or all of the above? Do you think that your studies have influenced your own art, or do you think that you would be painting your border creatures today even if you had never enrolled in fine arts?
AC: My undergraduate education was definitely focused on technique and the study of art history, while my graduate degree was more specifically geared towards understanding the conceptual context of an artistic practice. I hear a lot of artists complain about the lack of structure and classical training in art schools these days, and while I have to admit that I earned much of my technical knowledge the hard way, I truly believe that my education shaped my trajectory. In particular, individual professors and peers have been far more influential on my path than the institutional structure of academia. I’ve been lucky enough to encounter many friends and mentors in my life that have generously shared their knowledge with me, and I think this may have something to do with why I now teach as a professor myself.
There’s also a feverish exchange of ideas amongst peers in art school that’s hard to match. Although the graduate school that I attended was an interdisciplinary program, there was a camaraderie amongst the painters. We pushed each other to better understand the historical and philosophical foundations of our medium, and we were the better for it. The first images of the Border Creatures emerged from this setting, and were the product of a heavily philosophical investigation. While these first works were the bones of what I make now, they tended to be overly serious, and it was only by stepping away from the intensity of an academic setting that I was able to give my work the playfulness and inner life that it needed.
LB: On social media, you shared that you have been experimenting with some new techniques for this exhibition. Can you elaborate on those new techniques and what people can expect to see?
AC: I always like to ride the edge of my limitations in painting, to push myself just beyond what I think I’m capable of. A friend of mine that I share a studio space with always jokes that I like to torture myself with my work, and he might be a little right. There’s something exhilarating about setting out into the uncharted waters of painting. In this exhibition, that meant focusing on color and atmosphere. I don’t want to get too into the weeds when I talk about process, but many of these paintings began as highly saturated underpaintings. I blocked in the figures in monochrome violet or blue, and layered the background landscapes on top of intense washes of color. In the figures, I had to flesh out the color through several layers of glazing, and the end result shimmers with a depth and luminosity that opaque paint just can’t achieve. In the case of “Glow Gardener with Nocturne,” I actually used this process to create the illusion that the figure is glowing.
On the other hand, in some paintings I played with mixing this glazing process with more direct methods of thick, opaque applications of paint. Much of the foreground in “The Dream” was applied with a palette knife, and I ended up dragging and scraping away a ridiculous amount of paint before it was finished. The goal in this particular painting was to set up a contrast between the airy and transparent fantasy of the background and the earthy “reality” of the foreground scene.
LB: One of the things which I love about your work, are the wonderfully intricate and meticulously created backgrounds. They really do play a big part in the aesthetic that defines your paintings. If I can use a musical analogy, sometimes in life it is easy to focus on the lead singer, but it’s only when you look back on, say, a band like The Smiths and the solo careers of Morrissey and Johnny Marr, that you realise that something really ‘special’ was lost when you separated the front man from the band behind him. I have noticed that sometimes artists, perhaps in an effort to meet increasing demand for their works, and in the strive to maintain prodigious rates of output, start compromising on the backgrounds and landscapes in which they depict their protagonists: they kick Johnny Marr out of The Smiths, to continue with the analogy. How do you psyche yourself up to take the time required to create the level of detail in your works?
AC: Ha! That is a fantastic analogy, and a perfect explanation for why I still spend hours and hours of my life painting blades of grass! For me, art history is a balm of sorts when I’m feeling frustrated or burnt out. When I start to really struggle with the work I’m making, I open one of my books and just absorb the images inside. There’s something reassuring about the sheer volume of paintings that some of these artists were able to make in their lives, and I’m always trying to crack the code of how to work more efficiently, how to speed things up without compromising my work. Sometimes, this means methodically timing the layers of multiple paintings at once, and sometimes this means painting furiously while blasting very loud, very fast music.
LB: For this next exhibition, you have created pieces of various sizes and dimensions – and some are really quite large. How do you decide on scale? Is it a case of wanting to have pieces of different sizes, and then creating an image that is suited to each size? Or does the idea come first and you choose the size that works best for the idea? Because I imagine it’s not about needing extra space for extra detail: even your smaller pieces have an amazing amount of detail.
AC: My work often begins with me jotting ideas down in lists, just short and simple written descriptions of possible narratives. The initial stages of planning this show involved grouping the ideas that seemed the most thematically or visually linked, and eliminating those that seemed out of place. Mostly, I had an idea of what was going to be in the show before I even began sketching. I also knew that the large works would serve as conceptual and emotional anchors, and would frame the way the rest of the show would be read. So, I mostly used narrative tone to determine size. It seemed fitting that I use the romantic saga of Painter and Snake Gardener and the earnest musical passion of Glow Gardener as an emotional exposition of sorts.
LB: If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a deeper dive into the world of your Border Creatures now, a world inhabited by recurring characters, including the likes of Big Thinker, Veiled Healer, Snake Gardener, Dreamer and Painter. Do you think your paintings will always revolve around the Border Creatures, or can you see yourself retiring them or exploring other themes and protagonists in parallel?
AC: I definitely feel that the narrative and visual potential for this work is rich enough for me to mine for years, but I can’t say for certain where things will head in the future. For me, the world-building and storytelling that I engage in when I make my work allows for a lot of adaptability and possible change. I’ve never been one to completely abandon a body of work, but I could easily see the world of the Border Creatures expanding, and possibly, over time, even evolving beyond recognition; I always leave open the possibility of surprising myself. Despite how long I’ve been developing these characters and paintings, I still feel that I’m building out the exposition for their story. But I see any movement forward in my work as a way of advancing the mythology of these characters, a mythology that has, until recently, remained fairly vague and mysterious.
LB: You describe the Border Creatures as being part of a mythology that you have created. Is there a grand narrative that you have in mind, a comprehensive story arc that binds all of your paintings together or – if not all of them – is there an underlying narrative for the lives of the main, recurring characters? If so, do you already know how it all ends for particular Border Creatures or how their lives are going to unfold within the mythology? Or does each piece stand alone, independent of the other paintings?
AC: The work that I’ve been making for the past few years has a sort of narrative stillness between paintings; characters develop relationships, tiny dramas unfold, but mostly things remain constant. This is because I’ve been depicting a Golden Age for the Border Creatures, a period of pastoral harmony. They live in perfect balance with the Borderlands and each other. So in a way, most of the paintings in this exhibition can be seen as individual genre scenes within the broader context of an age of paradise. But this kind of perfection can’t last, and I think there’s a tension beginning to develop around the work that suggests the possibility of monumental, or even catastrophic change on the horizon. Over time, followers of my work might start to pick up on a larger narrative arc, but for me, the saga of the Border Creatures has only just begun! In a sense, I’m discovering this story as I go, uncovering new directions as I follow my instincts. But there are still strong conceptual currents that keep things in line as I go.
LB: I remember the first time I saw your paintings in person, I remember the uplifting, emotional connection which I felt straight away. Let’s face it, the Border Creatures don’t resemble anything that anybody would be familiar with (except perhaps for the keenest follower of Arcimboldo); but you can’t help but be touched by their tranquility and gentle, peaceful nature: there is no reason to be afraid of them, you can tell they are friendly. These are ideas which – growing up in the 80s and 90s – we were exposed to through characters like the Rockbiter in 1984’s NeverEnding Story and Guillermo del Toro’s faun and fairies in 2006’s Pan’s Labyrinth: when it comes to people, you just can’t judge a book by its cover and expect to be right. Is this a theme that you intend people to see in your work?
AC: Yes! If I had to sum up the single most important tenet that guides the decisions in my work it would be “empathy for the Other.” I allow myself a lot of room to play with how I depict the Border Creatures, but I never show them as threatening or overly alien; it’s important for me to cultivate the possibility of a real and positive connection between a viewer and the figures that I paint. Even at their most grotesque, the Border Creatures offer themselves as vulnerable, sensitive, and, ultimately, very human. Obviously, there’s a certain artistic distance between the fantasy in my paintings and the reality of everyday life, but I’ve always tried to use my work to speak to a contemporary human experience. I think that now more than ever, people are sensitive to the ways that we build divisions, the ways that we mark groups of people as undesirable, as unknown and unwanted. So, in a certain sense, the vision that I’m crafting suggests an alternative path, another way that we, as humans, might view and treat each other.
LB: Most people “feel” like your characters are either male or female: Veiled Healer feels female with her floral crown, Big Dreamer seems male with the large stamen protruding from his lap, and Snake Gardener seems female with her, shall we say, ample bosom. But maybe this is an overly human-centric view of the world, and teaches us something about our ourselves and our own tendency to rely upon – and therefore to be vulnerable to – stereotypes. Maybe this is just a case of humans seeing human shapes in the clouds, as it were. What is your view on the role of gender – if any – in the world of the Border Creatures?
AC: I’ve always been particularly sensitive to how I portray gender in my work, and I think on a personal level that this might have something to do with growing up with two mothers. Because of my life and my background, it’s always seemed very natural to me for gender roles to be fluid and even interchangeable. This is certainly something that not everyone is comfortable with, but as I’ve said, empathy is key, and difference is nothing to be frightened of.
So I’ve allowed this perspective to inform how I depict the Border Creatures. I think of them as manifesting the characteristics of a particular gender without ever settling comfortably into a fixed state. They’re not always androgynous, but they exhibit characteristics that might be seen as both male and female. For instance, Snake Gardener has breasts, but is larger and more muscular than her paramour, Painter. So I wouldn’t say that Snake Gardener is female, so much as she is becoming-female, and Painter becoming-male. I think about this more with some characters than others, but it greatly influenced the romantic saga that unfolds between “Snake Gardener,” “The Dream,” and “Studio, End of Day.”
LB: One of my favourite pieces in your upcoming show is “Snake Gardener with Orrery”. An orrery, of course, is a mechanical model of the solar system. I love the idea of Snake Gardener using a lantern to represent the sun, and eight pieces of fruit placed around it to represent planets orbiting the sun. Now, science buffs will know that, ever since Pluto lost its status as a planet, there are only eight remaining planets in our solar system. Is this a clue that, in your mythology, the Border Creatures inhabit the Earth or at least a planet or moon in the same solar system as us?
AC: Absolutely. It’s one of the ways that I suggest that this isn’t a totally alternate reality, but rather a distorted reflection on human existence. I think of the Borderlands as a sort of mutated Arcadia, a place of paradise that existed or will exist on Earth, but is always out of reach. The Borderlands themselves very directly reference natural landscapes that we can see on Earth. The trees and plants that surround me often find their way into the world that I depict, and I’m always gathering reference material whenever I travel. I even have illustrated field guides stacked around my studio. However, in order to create a sense of mythic distance, I always try to retain a certain feeling of unreality in my paintings.
LB: And to follow on in a similar vein, in your mythology, do the Border Creatures exist in a pre-human time or do they exist in parallel to us? Because I thought it was impressive that the Border Creatures are clearly on board with Copernicus, having worked out that the Sun is at the centre of the solar system!
AC: I try to maintain a certain amount of ambiguity in regards to when the Border Creatures exist in history, but I’ve referred to their world both as an alternate pre-history to humanity, as well as a mythic future-history. In a way, I think that the beauty of this kind of visual storytelling is that it can be both. I can speak directly to two universally human questions: “Where did we come from?” and “Where are we going?” However, since these characters so directly reflect on human existence without ever coming into contact with a “normal” human figure, I’ve never thought of them as existing in the present.
LB: I understand you recently read Neil Gaiman’s new book, Norse Mythology – which I remember because, coincidentally, I was reading it at the same time. In carving out the narrative of the Border Creatures, have you drawn inspiration from any other mythologies? For me, there is something wise and all-knowing about the Border Creatures, and their peaceful demeanour and prowess with the natural environment evokes ideas of the Vanir from Norse Mythology. It made me wonder whether you imagine the Border Creatures living in a parallel – but connected – realm, much like the setting of so much Norse mythology.
AC: Yes, a parallel but connected realm; that’s what I’ve been trying to describe. Much like how the nine worlds of Norse mythology reference elemental qualities of the physical world without being places you could necessarily travel to. When I first started painting this fictional race of creatures, I was much less concerned about the structure of myth and narrative, but I’ve been thinking about this more and more over the past year or so. Recently, I’ve been re-reading Ovid’s “Metamorphosis,” and examining nature-myths in particular, but I’m not sure if this research will manifest directly in the work or not. Up until this point, I think the epic scope of classical mythology has been absent from my paintings; as I pointed out, not too much actually happens when you’re living in a Golden Age. The questions I’ve been asking of myself have been about the daily lives of my characters, akin to examining the mundane daily activity on Olympus, or what the Vanir might be doing on an off-day. But recently, albeit mostly in my sketchbook, I’ve been questioning what comes next, or even what came before. I think the story of the Genesis of the Borderlands, or the Fall of the Border Creatures could be entire exhibitions in their own rights, but I’m still on the cusp of deciding where things will turn next.
LB: It could be said that the world of the Border Creatures resembles an Eden or Garden of Paradise. Do you think about it that way? When I see Snake Gardener with her orrery, her companion snake, and the apple by her side on the table – which has a bite taken out of it, by the way – it evokes some of the symbology from the Christian book of Genesis: perhaps Snake Gardener, who appears to be a scientist, has been tempted to take a bite from an apple from the tree of knowledge. Which, of course, would be deliciously ironic, because we all know what the Church thought of Copernicus and his newfangled theory which jettisoned the Earth from the centre of the universe! Do you think this is an open interpretation of the painting?
AC: Certainly! The religious symbolism in this painting is meant to be ironic, given the Eden-like qualities of the Borderlands. The Border Creatures live in a symbiotic harmony with the Borderlands, and I occasionally hint that they are an extension or natural outgrowth of the world around them. So Snake Gardener’s inquiry into the nature of things is less of a trespass than a natural function of the landscape; she is the natural world examining itself. This quest for knowledge is a recurring theme throughout “Sensory Garden.” Painter, Maker, Big Thinker, Big Dreamer, Glow Gardener, and Snake Gardener are all using the means available to them in order to better understand and connect with their surroundings.
In “Snake Gardener with Orrery,” I referenced Enlightenment images of early scientific experiments and, specifically, the work of Joseph Wright of Derby. The work that I was studying exemplifies a problematic perspective on nature that persists today, one that elevates and separates the rational mind from the natural world. In contrast, Snake Gardener is using her experiment to forge a connection. Caught up in the wonder of discovery, she has become a bridge between earth and sky; the scientist stands in rapture, her head rising above the treeline to touch the stars.
LB: Books are another recurring motif in your paintings (and you paint them gorgeously, I should add): sometimes they might be filled with text, other times they might be empty books awaiting filling… and sometimes the pages might be torn out and crumpled in frustration. Is this a statement about the importance of the pursuit of knowledge and the fundamental desire for us to make sense of the world around us and to pass that knowledge on to those who come after us? Because, really, that’s what all great mythologies were created to do.
AC: One of the eternal riddles of representational painting is how to depict intangible concepts like knowledge in physical, seemingly tactile ways. It was Rembrandt’s paintings that first inspired me to introduce books as a way of addressing the Border Creatures’ search for a greater understanding of their world. In a Rembrandt painting, a book isn’t merely a prop or an allegorical symbol for abstract thought. It’s a bridge between the material world and the life of the mind, lovingly rendered so that you can almost feel your fingers brush against the delicate thinness of paper, almost hear the crinkling sound of a turning page. In his depictions of books, conscious thought is something that’s intimately connected to the physical world. So in this sense, I use my depictions of books to emphasize the possibility for knowledge, for scientific and artistic inquiry, to help us see the deep connections between humanity and the world that surrounds us.
The proliferation of books in my paintings is also a self aware nod to the importance of storytelling, of myth-making. Even as I paint the saga of these tender creatures, I like to think that they’re writing their own narratives; stories that help them understand their place in the world. The precise nature of Big Dreamer’s poetry or Big Thinker’s essays remains mysterious, but they’re as important to the Border Creatures as our own arts are to us.
LB: In all of your paintings, the Border Creatures always seem hidden and lost, either in isolation or in time or both, in a peaceful, unthreatened, untarnished sort of way. But in Glow Gardener with Nocturne, for the first time, we see the ocean and the horizon in the distance – which for me, implies a question of what lies beyond, and simultaneously implies uncertainty, opportunity and threat. Do you envisage any excursions or incursions… the last scene of Mel Gibson’s Apocalypto comes to mind!
AC: I suspect you’re picking up on the narrative tension that I mentioned earlier! These characters have spent so long languishing in a perfect and harmonious state, that dramatic change feels inevitable. However, I don’t think the threat will come from beyond the Borderlands, but from within. But I’m only now beginning to investigate these possibilities, so we’ll just have to wait and see how things develop!
LB: One last question Adrian before you head to the airport – what lies ahead for Adrian Cox? Are there any clues you might share about where you see your painting heading?
AC: I’m actually in the planning stages for a new body of paintings that I’ll be exhibiting in Los Angeles next year. I don’t want to share too many details just yet, but some of the narrative potential that I’ve discussed here will undoubtedly make its way into this work. I’ll also be creating a number of larger paintings for the exhibition, so I suspect things will get fairly epic before I’m finished!
]]>“…none of the already published recordings show us Beksiński while painting - we have that on record! I think such fragments may be very interesting for other artists who are inspired by the work of Beksiński, by his technique. However, tapes contain a lot of ordinary daily life of the Beksiński family, too. They were normal, cheerful people who lived in really hard times and struggled with normal problems. Beksiński, as a man ahead of his time, decided to record it all - nobody had ever done that before in Poland.”
The works of Polish artist Zdzisław Beksiński are renowned for their haunting surrealism. Presenting dusty dystopian landscapes, sparsely populated by gaunt and imposing figures. Beksiński’s work has inspired countless artists and informed creative directions in film, music and photography. Despite his enormous influence, there has never been much of a window into the life of the man himself. Kamil Śliwiński is hoping to change that. He is one of the driving forces behind a crowdfunding campaign aimed at raising enough funds to make a feature length documentary on Zdzisław Beksiński and his life. This documentary will build and expand upon the only previous film on Beksiński, “The Last Family”, accessing over three hundred hours of footage shot by Beksiński and his immediate family as well as interviews with family, friends and colleagues.
This extraordinary campaign has the support of Beksiński’s family, the Beksiński Foundation as well as the Polish Film Institute.
CL: How did you discover Beksinski and his work?
KS: I discovered the works of Zdzisław Beksiński many years ago in high school - somewhere on the internet - like most young people here. Poland had then only one permanent exhibition of his paintings in Sanok, a small city located quite far from the center where I live. Nobody organized his exhibitions in other cities, so the internet was all we had. I knew some surreal artists quite well, and was still discovering the works of other great Masters, but nothing delighted me so much as the art of Beksiński. A few years later, in 2014, my passion for this extraordinary man and his work revived. It was then that I decided to create a Facebook page where, in contrast to many other pages existing, I wanted to present the artist's work in the best available quality, share his thoughts, inform people about events and discover unknown works. Previously there was no such place on the social networks and I thought there should be as this is where people often search for information. Within three years, I created the most popular pages dedicated to Beksiński in Poland, without any paid promotion, only hard work. For several months now I’ve been working together with the Beksiński Foundation, which promotes the artist's heritage here in Poland. Everything I do now is also approved by the only the heir of the artist - The Historical Museum in Sanok.
CL: What do you believe makes a good story? And what is it about this documentary that you believe will draw people in?
KS: Interest in the works, but also in the life, philosophy and wisdom of Beksiński, is constantly growing. In the last year there have been published diaries of the artist, a great album with his work, and we also had a very popular movie inspired by the story of the Beksiński family. Unfortunately, I believe it did not quite accurately show the truth, although it was certainly very good technically. I do know well the story of the Mr Beksiński and his family, I know many of his relatives, friends... And frankly I don’t believe this film represented them as they really were. This caused a bit of controversy in Poland. But it seems to me that a similar problem is faced by every film inspired by real stories- it's difficult to show, in two hours, such an unusual personality like Beksiński. This is why I believe that the documentary created from the original artist's tapes, recorded by Beksiński himself during nearly 10 years of life in Warsaw, will let us look at him and his family from the good and real side - From the Inside.
CL: The amount of footage you have to work with is quite extraordinary and I imagine, will give the viewer a very personal insight into the artist and his work. Was there anything in the footage that you found surprising? Or enlightening?
KS: There are so many recordings! For example, none of the already published recordings show us Beksiński while painting - we have that on record! I think such fragments may be very interesting for other artists who are inspired by the work of Beksiński, by his technique. However, tapes contain a lot of ordinary daily life of the Beksiński family, too. They were normal, cheerful people who lived in really hard times and struggled with normal problems. Beksiński, as a man ahead of his time, decided to record it all - nobody had ever done that before in Poland. It is also worth mentioning that the artist's son, Tomasz, was also a very well known person in Poland - a recognized radio presenter, who shaped the musical tastes of thousands of Poles in those "gray days" of the 80s and 90s. They both shared a passion for music and film and on the tapes are plenty of interesting discussions about current trends!
CL: What makes you want to tell this story and share it with the world?
KS: I think this is something that deserves to be shown, especially now when people talk about Beksiński more often here in Poland, and also all over the world, and not always aware of the truth of his extraordinary life and genius. In my opinion, this is the best time to show the world that Beksinski was not only a genius painter but also really brilliant man who lived in his own way, and invented himself in any possible field that he chose.
CL: How well recognised is Beksinski and his work in Poland, his home country?
KS: Currently Beksiński is one of "the hottest" names among the fans of art, in particular the young and open-minded people. This is also due to the film. But earlier it was not so cool, you know, Beksiński didn't like the artistic community so much. He didn’t organize his exhibitions, he was a loner who preferred to spend time creating and being with family rather than entertaining the press and media - the critics hated him for it. For many years, I think as revenge for such an approach, he was often overlooked in major publications and events. His works were described by some of critics as kitsch. I believe it was very unfair.
CL: What do you hope to do with this film when it is complete? And how wide an audience do you hope it will reach?
KS: The first version of the film - a 44-minute documentary - had its only public screening a few years back in Beksiński's hometown Sanok, and was seen by only a few people. Since this time many fans still ask about it. So, the filmmakers decided to gather additional funds to complete the work and make the film available to a wider audience, both in small cinemas, TV and on the internet. Months passed and there was nobody seemed willing to support this idea. Until finally, the first institution to trust this project was the Polish Film Institute that decided to grant a subsidy to assist in making a feature-length documentary about the Beksiński family. Still, the amount granted was not sufficient to close the budget and that's when the makers of the film decided to turn to the artist's fans in Poland and around the world. This coincided with the onset of my collaboration with Beksiński Foundation. After a few meetings and discussing various options we decided to launch a crowdfunding campaign. Taking into consideration the fact that a feature film about the Beksiński family has already been watched by millions of Poles, and with a lot of people around the world still waiting to see it, I truly hope the interest in our documentary will be very high. I hope so!
]]>Kit King in her studio surrounded by pieces for "Dimensional Analogue" 2016.
The work of Canada-based artist Kit King is a study in contrasts: not merely the dark and light of her black and white pieces but also the contrasts between intimate and impersonal, hardness and vulnerability, openness and the state of being bound. There is balance yet tension. And it is the viewer who is invited, perhaps compelled, to resolve that tension—or decide to merely appreciate the question a particular piece may ask.
"Art helps me feel less alone. I can find solace in the solitude when I’m creating. Through art I am able to connect with my fellow man all over the globe. I can paint pieces and scatter them across the earth and fill this place with little pieces of myself." —Kit King
Kit King with her oil painting titled "Apply As Needed"
Julie Antolick Winters: You’ve been creating art since childhood, yet you’ve not had formal art schooling. What drew you to hyperrealism?
Kit King: When I was younger I saw the realism my parents could do and was always so impressed with it. I wanted to achieve the same level of realism—only the more I grew with it, the more flaws I saw in my work, and the more details I began to notice. I became a little obsessed with trying to render every tiny detail I saw. I didn’t even know hyperrealism was a thing. The more I created, the more I fell in love with it, and the more obsessed I became. Have you ever fallen for someone so completely that you could sit there for hours just combing every detail of their face? Looking and finding the tiniest scars and wondering how they got it? Or wonder if they were ever insecure about the “imperfections” that you find so beautiful about them? I suppose that’s me with my work. Entranced, in love and obsessed. Hyperrealism has a certain intimacy about it that I find so alluring.
Untitled - Oil, acrylic and pastel on 24” birch panel by Kit King
JAW: Do you derive more inspiration from concepts or emotions or from things you see?
KK: I would say I'm highly emotionally driven—it’s why I create in the first place. I tend to pour too much of myself in my art. If a concept is pulling me, it’s because of the emotion fueling that concept. Many of my more recent works have begun conceptually, but it’s never a concept devoid of emotion.
"Raw" - Collaborative oil painting by Kit King & Oda
JAW: What is your greatest satisfaction in creating?
KK: The escape it provides. Art has saved me. I’ve always been an outsider and turned to art to purge intense emotions I didn’t know how to express to others. When my social anxiety and agoraphobia came about, I didn’t know what to do but create. I just painted the days away as a means to get through them. I struggled a great deal with suicidal tendencies and as long as I was creating, I was okay.
"Dimensional Analogue" - Oil painting by Kit King
JAW: You are known for your paintings and drawings, but your website does have examples of your photography work as well. What, if anything, does photography bring you that painting and drawing do not, and what do painting and drawing bring you that photography does not?
KK: I was never into photography much but want to explore every creative medium I can. I honestly wasn’t expecting to love it as much as I do. The best thing about photography is it allows me to explore so much more, since I’m not spending weeks creating one single image. I’ve had some health struggles, and photography allows me to still be creative when my mind and body aren’t up to the strains of drawing and painting. My first few years doing this full time, I was working 16-hour days 7 days a week and did some damage to my neck, spine and wrists. I can’t paint the crazy hours I used to, but I sill long for those hours to be spent creatively.
I loathe the technological aspect of photography though—I’m seriously bad with technology and prefer hands-on raw materials of oils, carbon and clay. There’s so much I have to learn with photography that I struggle with, whereas with drawing and painting, there was never any struggle: it all evolved so naturally for me. So photography feels more like work, but I am loving the learning curve and newness of it. There’s something inherently different about photography than any other medium. There’s a truth to it, and I’m really intrigued by that. With drawing and painting, even hyperrealistically, it’s always my interpretation of an image, whereas photography will always be exactly that…a moment captured as it is. Yes, as the photographer you can control the image mood and feel, but there’s an honesty in what is seen there versus what I choose to see in a painting. Even my own paintings referenced from my photography are never the exact same: when I paint, I'm never thinking of matching the likeness but rather focused on certain aspects of that image, and when I’m taking a photo I’m more focused on aesthetics and content. My state of mind changes for each. Paintings equal “how does this make me feel?” Photography equals “is it visually appealing? Does it have importance?”
I’m still so new to photography but certainly want to explore it more, as art has taken on new meaning for me, outside of just being my personal escape. Now art has become more about what I can bring to this world to make it a better place, and photography is a perfect medium for me to explore and express this.
"Searching For A Connection" - Photo by Kit King
JAW: You’ve mentioned having experienced agoraphobia. What effects, if any, has the agoraphobia had on your art?
KK: To be honest, I don’t think I even would have become an artist if it hadn’t been for this crippling anxiety. I never once considered art a viable career path. Agoraphobia sort of nudged me on this path though.
Agoraphobia is incredibly isolating and emotionally heavy. When you carry these excess emotions, you need a place to unload them and try to make sense of them and the situation you’ve come to find yourself in. Art is perfect for this. My world suddenly became so small. These walls were now all I knew. But with art, I could go anywhere. Be anyone. Art helps me feel less alone. I can find solace in the solitude when I’m creating. Through art I am able to connect with my fellow man all over the globe. I can paint pieces and scatter them across the earth and fill this place with little pieces of myself. I can reach out to others and share intimate parts of my soul through my art. It can be difficult to express the pain you deal with when struggling with such an intense anxiety like this, but art allows me to say the words that are heavy on my heart that my voice cannot. Simply put, agoraphobia birthed the pain that fuels my art.
Kit King working on a massive drawing titled "Uninhibited"
JAW: Bodies, and body image, are featured prominently as subject matter in your pieces. What do you most hope that viewers will carry from your work?
KK: I just want people to never feel alone or ashamed. These are such horrible feelings unnecessarily pushed on us more and more with the direction this world is going. I’m an outsider looking in on this world, and I can see it’s not meant to be like this; humanity is headed down a terrible road, and I have a hard time just standing idly by watching it all unravel. I just want to be a teeny glimmer of hope in someone’s day, and art is the best way I know how to do this. In a world where we are constantly told we are not good enough, I want people to hear my voice saying, “yes, you are.”
Studio photo of Kit King with her painting "In Flux"
JAW: In addition to your work as an individual artist, you have created a painting partnership with your husband, Oda. How has this partnership evolved?
KK: My husband moved from America where he was a tattooer, to be with me here in Canada. He always wanted to be an artist, and so I showed him everything I had taught myself, to help him pursue his dream. This was two years ago now. We actually fell in love before we ever met while discussing a collaboration we wanted to do. When we did that first collaboration, we knew in that moment we wanted to spend our lives with one another. It was an immediate connection like I had never seen. I don’t work well with people at all, but it was just magic with him. Our hands just danced together on the canvas, and we were so in tune with one another we didn’t need to communicate much. The biggest struggle now is that he no longer needs my help to paint, and since having him in my life, I no longer need painting to quell my pain (since he does a great job of that), and so we have evolved to have two separate artistic voices now. He really wants to focus on the meditative practices of the creative field and content linked to our earth, where my work now is high energy/emotion/anything but meditative, and focused on pain and human struggles and exploring sexuality. So there’s a dichotomy with the energy there. We had met because we actually drew the exact same thing and I thought he was ripping me off (until I saw the time stamp and that he had done his first), so back then we were right on the same page as far as what to paint; it wasn’t a convergence of our ideas, but more just the exact same idea (hah). We’ve taken a step back from the collaborative work while we both explore our new directions a bit, so we can see how they can naturally come together rather than forcing something there.
"Hyperaemia" - Collaborative oil painting by Kit King & Oda
JAW: What might our readers be most surprised to learn about you as an artist?
KK: That I never wanted to become an artist. I was an honor roll kid that flunked art—the only class I have ever failed. I tried to take an art class in high school, but I flunked it for not showing up. Turns out I had zero interest in “learning” art. I never cared to study art at all, so I am completely out of the art loop.
When I was a kid I wanted to be a marine biologist, then in high school a judge; then I wanted to become a medical geneticist in my early adult years, but the anxiety threw a wrench in that. I’m more into science than I am art. I can’t even make my way through an art tutorial on YouTube or a DVD. (I tried to watch one with Oda once and it was painful!) I just don’t believe in “teaching” art. It’s one of the only free things we have on this earth. I think the institutionalisation of art has clouded so much of art’s essence and purity. When you’re a kid you create for the joy it brings you. You don’t care about colouring in the lines until someone tells you to stay in those lines…I have no interest in that.
Kit King & Oda censoring a collaborative paintings for the Facebook nipple police. This piece was shown at beinArt Gallery in 2016.
JAW: What excites you about the work of other artists? Are there particular artists whose work you find inspiring?
KK: Since I’m so new to the art world, every day I discover a badass new artist out there, and it’s too hard to say just a few names. But I’m inspired by any artist who uses their work to challenge the status quo. Art that’s more than just a pretty picture—art with guts—that’s what inspires me. I like the artists that don’t paint things that will sell fast because they look nice and are playing it safe. I like the creators that show the ugly truths no one wants to speak about. That level of bravery inspires.
Kit King working on her piece "Eat & Dick" the for "Flesh & Bone" show at beinArt Gallery (2017)
JAW: Is there anything you’d like to tell our readers about what you’re working on now or what you have lined up for 2017?
KK: I have a couple solo shows coming up in San Francisco and Montreal, some art fairs and more global group exhibits. You can find it all on my website, www.kitkingart.com.
Expect to see more experimenting and evolution. No matter how hard I try to stick to one theme or style for a cohesive body of work that makes for a pretty portfolio, I can’t help but be pulled to examine a multitude of mediums and ideas, so I’ve sort of given up on that notion of a clean tailored gallery…so get ready for some messy, explorative honesty.
"Dichotomize" - self portrait with graphite & charcoal on paper by Kit King
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in 2017.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
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The mind-bending sculptures of Johnson Tsang push the limits of imagination and sometimes even of gravity. By turns whimsical, lyrical, and provocative, his works capture the fluidity of both physical motion and human emotion while challenging us to see the world in a different way.
"My works depicting babies were expressing my point of view to the world through the eyes of a child—my inner child." —Johnson Tsang
See available sculptures by Johnson Tsang.
Left: "Soul Shopping" & Right: "Hang in There" from Lucid Dreams series - Porcelain sculptures by Johnson Tsang.
Julie Antolick Winters: Tell us how sculpture became your preferred medium for creating art.
Johnson Tsang: I have liked observing everything around me since I was four years old. The world was so beautiful for me, especially Mother Nature. I drew as much as I could. Ten years later, people said I was very good at it. However, I wasn’t satisfied with 2D expression because everything I saw was in 3D. I could not find a way to capture the beauty of nature even though I was able to draw very realistically. Then, just like other kids, I started to play with clay. I just loved it. The difference between me and other kids is that when I found something I liked, I never wanted to stop. So, here I am.
"Open Mind" - Porcelain sculpture by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: You were a police officer for several years before you started making art full-time. Did you leave the police squad in order to devote more time to art, or did you simply find that after you left, you had more time for sculpting?
JT: I had been working in the Royal Police Force for 13 years before my resignation. It was my passion for art that led me to this crucial step. In 1991, I started to learn ceramics. I fell in love with clay immediately. I kept having ideas when I wasn’t in the pottery class. Two years later, in 1993, I decided to quit my job to explore a new life. It was this turning point that changed my life forever. Then, art changed the way I observed things happening around me.
"Dreams Come True" - Porcelain sculpture by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: How did your time on the police squad affect your artwork in terms of subject matter?
JT: At the beginning of my new life, I felt that I had wasted 13 years of time when I wasn’t exploring art. A few years ago, I started to see something hiding in my works that may have originated from the time of my service. I’d been serving in many departments in the police force—like the tactical unit, emergency unit, special duty squad, vice (anti-drug squad), and traffic accident investigation team. I’ve seen a lot of cases that needed police assistance or enforcement. Most of the time those cases showed the dark side of the city and humanity. What affected me the most were the fatal cases. I saw people being stabbed and killed by gangsters, a 6-year-old girl who was murdered by her maid, an 11-year-old girl who watched her younger brother die under a big tire of a double-decker bus while she was helping her mother to take care of him, and lots of faces of people who lost their lives in fatal car accidents. Today, I would definitely say that my service plays an important role in my creation. At least, I see things differently.
"Security Summit" - Porcelain sculptures by Johnson Tsang.
JAW Many of your pieces feature babies, often in contexts in which a person would not expect to see them. How did your work evolve to include babies?
JT: For many years, I ran a workshop for teaching pottery . In 2005, I started teaching kids: I told my inner self to go back to the age of a child. Then I became one of them, enjoying the classes. My inner child kept visiting me from time to time, especially when I created my own art. I believe that sometimes I wasn’t the one creating my works. My works depicting babies were expressing my point of view to the world through the eyes of a child—my inner child.
Photo of Johnson Tsang with his sculpture.
JAW: Would you say that there is an overarching theme in your work? What is it that you hope viewers will carry away from your pieces?
JT: There are something deep in our soul which answers all the questions and problems happening right now. That is love. I do wish to make a better world. Somehow, I couldn’t find a better way to do it, as I am not good at any other territory. Luckily, I found art. Recently, when I had a chance to look over my past works, as I prepared for a talk about my works, I discovered that I have a pattern in creation. I found that I created work related to the theme of love after I made a couple of works expressing some negative messages. It seemed like I was answering with “love” to the questions arising from my work.
"Break The Rules" - Porcelain sculptures by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: Do you start your pieces with a concept fully in mind, or do the concepts become more complete as you work through a piece?
JT: I have worked in both ways, and I enjoy both. Sometimes, a spontaneous way of creating brought a big surprise.
JAW: What do you enjoy most about the process of sculpting?
JT: I enjoy every moment in creation. I feel excited when building an idea in my mind. I find peace of mind when I touch clay. I feel satisfied when a problem is solved. I feel grateful when the mission is completed. Then, I feel that I love it more than ever. So I feel excited to start the next project.
"Oops!" - Porcelain sculpture by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: What are the most challenging aspects of making your art and getting it seen by others?
JT: I have confidence in turning a piece of clay into any form. However, there are some limitations to working as a sculptor in Hong Kong. This is one of the most expensive cities in the world. Most local artists here face the same problem of unaffordable space. Practically, it limits the size of my works. Limited space may be good for me: it means I use less time, making smaller pieces, creating more works and sharing more ideas.
"A Painful Pot" - Porcelain sculpture by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: You have worked in ceramics, stainless steel, and wood. Is there any medium for sculpture that you would like to try but have not yet?
JT: I have tried different materials for my sculpture. I did search for any possibility of using other materials, exploring new directions, wishing to create greater work. Then, a question from inside arose: “Is that what you really love?” Somehow, my answer was so clear: I love working with clay. There is love and peace in it that interacts with my subconsciousness. What else do I need?
"Yangyang" - Stainless steel sculpture by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: What did you have to learn about stainless steel before starting to work with it? Did you have any background training that made this medium a natural one for you to try, or did you decide you wanted to use it, so then you set out to learn about it?
JT: I am a self-taught artist, I learned pottery, metal work, and wood work, mostly by myself. Eight years ago, I thought of using stainless steel instead of porcelain for my splash work. Compared to porcelain, this material is much stronger. Then I spent two months learning and working with steel casting, welding and polishing in Guangzhou, China. This was a great experience. Afterwards, I created a few pieces of steel works for some public art projects.
"We Luv U Dad!" - Porcelain sculptures by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: What are your thoughts about the place of ceramic art in the current art scene?
JT: Ceramics is just one of the hundreds of art forms today. I am not interested in finding its position among the others. I fell in love with ceramic twenty-five years ago. I still love it today. It has the most important place in my creations. Romantic, isn’t it?
"Big Fish" - Porcelain sculpture by Johnson Tsang.
JAW: Do you have anything you would like to tell our readers about what you are working on now and what you have planned for the future?
JT: I am working on a couple of series right now. One of them is “Lucid Dream.” The idea came from my dreams. For years, I have written down my dreams. I turned some of these strange dreams into ideas. Sometimes, the ideas arose from meditation. As the ideas were not originated from my consciousness. I found this fascinating; after the first one was done, it felt like my dreams came true. What is my plan for the future? I would simply say that I will keep doing what I am doing right now. I spend about 50 to 60 hours a week in my work. My wish is that I can keep a healthy body and mind to persist.
Left: "Two in One" & Right: "Go Within" from Lucid Dreams series - Porcelain sculptures by Johnson Tsang.
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in 2016.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
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Where Am I – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
Greg “Craola” Simkins has a nickname to set him apart, but maybe that’s not needed: his versatility is enough to separate him from others. With a career that includes many years as a graffiti artist, a painter of beautifully rendered fine art pieces, and one who keeps his fingers in a variety of commercial art pursuits, including clothing, animation, toys, and album art, Simkins might well stand alone as a success on many artistic fronts.
“I don’t know if I hold on too tightly to my adolescent insecurities, or if it is this wiring that actually pushes me forward in trying to get better at my craft, but I have come to terms with it over the years and have developed a saying amongst some friends to help us cope with these feelings and ground what we do: ‘We aren’t curing cancer.’ That way, I don’t take myself too seriously and I can just enjoy the process of making paintings and drawings and release some of the weight I throw on my back.”—Greg “Craola” Simkins
Luna – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
Julie Antolick Winters: You started college studying veterinary science, yet you eventually switched majors to art. Tell us how that transition happened.
Greg “Craola” Simkins: It was my freshman year of college. I started courses at a junior college over here called El Camino College, which is in the South Bay of Los Angeles. The courses I had prepared myself to take were all pre-veterinarian courses as well the basic requirement courses one needed to graduate. I made sure to add Beginning Art 101 to my list of classes because it was always an obsessive interest of mine and I was already doing small freelance jobs with my art on the side. As things go, two of my science classes were full and I wasn’t able to add them, so I was stuck at school with math general courses, a large break in between classes and art class. I did what I always did and just found a table and drew in my black book during my break. It was always a mixture of characters and lettering trying to perfect my style of fonts for my graffiti name, “Craola.” Every once in a while other students would see this and sit down with me and we would start up conversation on our shared interests in art and graffiti. These are the years that I met my friends Mayhem, Tron, Brad Hess, Circus, Cenema, Kazuko, and Havok. These other students had a great impact on me switching my major over to art. My first art instructor, Bihn Ngo, was also a big help, as he asked why I wasn’t focusing on art. At the end of that first semester I was asked to do a big illustration job through a portion of the summer on a kids’ game called “Pogs, ” which paid pretty well and helped me to convince my parents that this might be a viable alternative for me. I was hooked and pursued art full force from there on out. I was always doing it, but so many factors just pushed me in that direction from there on out. It was graffiti, the punk rock music scene of the early ‘90s, which I did lots of band merch, fliers, and covers for, illustration jobs for streetwear and skateboards, and just obsessive creating of art pieces to push myself.
My Specialty Is Special Tea – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: Your paintings feature elements that are complex and multifaceted; are your paintings fully formed in your mind before you start them, or do they evolve as you go?
GS: Some of the pieces are fully formed in my imagination, but I believe it is in my “sketch-life” that all the working out occurs. I keep small sketch books which hold all my random thoughts, as well as a notepad file on my phone which has pages and pages of story ideas and thoughts and phrases that spark images for pieces. Between these two tools, I am able to compose an image so that when it comes time to transfer and execute the painting, there is a lot figured out. But all the hard work is done in books and on paper. I always leave room to allow new elements in each piece, having gained an understanding over the years that once the painting begins, it often tells me where a new element needs to exist. A lot of interesting new storylines and rabbit trails have occurred because of this allowance.
A Branch in the Water – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: Is there a particular moment when you felt like you’d really “arrived” as a successful artist?
GS: No, and I still don’t feel that way. I don’t understand the concept of “arrived, ” as the bar has been set so high by so many amazing artists before me and I always feel just out of grasp of what I want to achieve with my technical skills. I feel like a fraud some of the time and like I am about to be found out as this fake artist who didn’t even make any of this artwork to begin with. I don’t know if I hold on too tightly to my adolescent insecurities, or if it is this wiring that actually pushes me forward in trying to get better at my craft, but I have come to terms with it over the years and have developed a saying amongst some friends to help us cope with these feelings and ground what we do: “We aren’t curing cancer.” That way, I don’t take myself too seriously and I can just enjoy the process of making paintings and drawings and release some of the weight I throw on my back.
Good Knight – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: I read in an interview that you noted that graffiti is illegal, so when it’s commissioned, it becomes something else, i.e., a standard mural. What are your thoughts generally about graffiti being featured in galleries and getting acceptance as something more mainstream?
GS: I believe that it is important to recognise that graffiti artists in general were putting their life on the line, be it through fines, incarcerations, being beaten up, or even dying to make their art. And in my generation and the ones before it, it was not about getting a gallery show or even making a ton of money. It was for a variety of reasons, from just mischief making, being seen, some ego, making a statement—political and other—or just pushing your own limits to see what awesome creation you could make on a wall with a spray can under the various pressures surrounding the activity. I was driven by the first and the latter. But it was the graffiti artists who through their hard work inspired what has become “street art, ” which has taken the world by storm but also which has forgotten a lot of who paved the way. It’s just different now, but a lot of amazing street art is going up in the world, beautiful pieces by amazing artists, a lot who began their journey as graffiti artists. I just get a little annoyed when some college students develop a “street campaign” purely for the reason of getting a gallery show or making fast money, where that is the only thing that drives them to do it. In the beginning, it was a talk between the artists; now the public has been let into the conversation, and they all have an opinion with no knowledge of the history.
Who Made You King – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: I’ve read that you learned a lot about colour theory and perspective in your early days doing graffiti. Was there any discrepancy between what you learned in your formal art studies and what you learned doing street art, and if so, how did you reconcile any such differences?
GS: Trial and error. Making so many mistakes along the way and trying to fix them is the best path to learning. You don’t get any better without doing the work. So many people want to be handed all the answers on their path, every step of the way. I found that just picking up the paints and noodling around with them gave me a relationship with the mediums that I have today. Moreso acrylics than anything else. The more I used them, the more I understood what each tool could do. Of course, everything else you learn lends back to the other mediums. Pencils, markers, inks, computer programs, acrylics, charcoals, water colour, spray paint, house paint, you name it (I still have yet to dive into oils, mainly for fear that it will take over; I have been told I won’t go back, but I am having too much fun getting to know my acrylics all these years). Anyway, I would have to figure out perspective for some of these larger walls we would compose and how to create atmosphere and make things looked pushed back in order to put emphasis on the key elements on the wall. It just happened over time, and I have photos upon photos of horrible work that I made that were my path way to creating the stories that I do now.
Gather Around – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: Between the skills you gained as a graffiti artist and those you gained working in the video game industry, which would you say (if either) have had the biggest impact on your painting?
GS: They both tie in, hand in hand. I can’t give one more credit than the other. Painting walls is physical and messy and tactile, while painting in Photoshop and Illustrator was sterile and precise and allowed for corrections. Both instructed me in different ways that landed back in my lap with brushes and paint.
Join Me – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: Even as you’ve been consistent in making art over the years, you’ve worked in a lot of different jobs that have been more people oriented. I’ve read that you miss, to a degree, working with people on a daily basis. Do you consider yourself an introvert or an extravert, and how does that affect how you do your work?
GS: I am a bit of a clown around my friends and enjoy the sarcasm and camaraderie that occur amongst my various groups of friends. Joking around, serious talks on life and whatnot are what really drove me for years, but when it comes down to composing a piece, it is like writing a story or a song. You need complete concentration and a big swath of uninterrupted time. I have to introvert myself for these moments or I’ll get nothing done. I love this part of creating and find it the most important. Once I get the idea fully composed, I can get back to the conversations and find the actual painting part very mechanical and satisfying.
Tea and Jam – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: Tell us about the stop-motion film you’re involved in, I’m Scared. How did that project come about, and what is its current status?
GS: I was approached a few years ago by two friends on separate occasions about the topic of making a stop-motion short. One was Robyn Yannoukas—this an Oscar and Emmy award winner for her work—and the other was Dan Levy, who has been in the business via Robot Chicken and other projects. I found out one night at one of my shows that they knew each other, and we all got to talking. Dan enlisted our awesome director, Pete Levin, and they got together planning a Kickstarter campaign to raise the funding to make this animated short. Towards the end of the process, we were stoked to have our talented and supportive friend Mark Hoppus, from Blink-182, join the team to score the piece. The short has played in multiple film festivals at this point, and the fulfillment of the story book (or Mook, as we call it) are being mailed out along with the exclusive download as we speak. We wanted to make sure that all our backers were able to see the short first, before it was released to a larger viewing public. That is where it is at right now. The second toy sculpted by my friend Kevin Pasko and put out by 3D Retro is about to be released also, which I am very excited about.
JAW: How’d you come up with your website’s name, IMSCARED.COM?
GS: I tell various stories about it, but I was working at Treyarch/Activision and we had a programmer who worked on various assets named Cody Fletcher. He was savvy with websites and such and showed me how I could put one together on GeoCities. This was around the time of Friendster and just before Myspace. I tried to buy the domain name GregSimkins.com, but it was taken. Various forms of it weren’t available at the time as well (although these days, gsimkins.com will take you to my site as well). I wanted to have something memorable and something that reflected my work and me as an artist at the time. My work was creepier back then, and I felt something along the lines of Edward Gorey and Tim Burton would be super fitting, so “I’m Scared” it was. It was fitting and rolled off of the tongue. It was a little phrase as well when we were surfing and bodyboarding. Our friend Doug Disante was a pro body boarder who was younger and smaller than all of us, and when we were all surfing larger waves, he would be the only one dropping in and taunting us from the wave in a high-pitched voice, “I’m Scared! I’m Scared!” So it was kind of just in the ether for me as well.
The Artifact – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: You’ve said in the past that you want to stay true to what’s in your head and not paint something just because it will sell. Is there much of a push-pull for you between what you feel driven to paint and what you feel will be commercially successful?
GS: I try not to think about it. It stresses me out. If I think too hard it will muddy it up. The fact is, if I like to paint something and it is commercially accepted, then I battle the thought, “is that why I painted it?” No, I just wanted to paint it, and it ended up that way. I tend to brush that thinking aside and just work. I like to let it sort itself out.
Stellar – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: Merchandise featuring your artwork indeed seems a natural outlet, but how did you end up selling a custom acrylic set?
GS: My relationship with Trekell Art Supplies has been one that I love since day one. They are so supportive and so dedicated to making good products that I back them 100%. From the beginning almost 12 years ago, just talking with them about brushes, likes, and whatnot, to developing my own brush line to even having an acrylic set and now seeing the pro team develop, it has all been satisfying. A lot of it is due to my wife’s relationship with them as well. She brought up the first sponsorship between them and myself, and we have naturally grown together ever since. I never in my foggiest imagination would have imagined having art supplies with my name on them. It still blows my mind. Such a great company!
Journeymen – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: I was intrigued to learn that your work has found expression even in the form of toys! Please tell us more about that.
GS: I have done a few toys over the years, the first being a Dunny and then a bunch of work with Strangeco and Upper Playground. Then we backed off from toys for a bit, but because of the stop-motion project, I am very pleased with what 3D Retro put out in the form of “Ralf” and “The Orcow” (Stair Monster; coming out soon) (both sculpted by Kevin Pasko).
JAW: I understand that you keep a fairly rigorous schedule for painting. Do you ever have times when it feels like your creative well runs dry, and if so, what do you do when that happens?
GS: If I feel dry, I look through nature photography, go to the library and browse various books, sit and sketch stuff from life, make studies and whatnot, or my favourite, walk around antique shops. It is kind of rare that the well feels dry; there are always too many ideas and not enough time to do them. I feel like a slave to the clock and wish I had control over time.
The Wanderers – Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: Is there anything that surprises you about the art world right now, either in general or in terms of your own place in it?
GS: I don’t think I am surprised by too much in the art world these days except for the fact that I have a little toe in it. It is hard to follow too much of it for me, as I am busy raising my kids and making pieces. I find myself a little bit tuned out to what the ebb and flow is in the art world. I catch on a bit here and there and try to stay the course with what I do and what interests me, which still ends up being animals and creatures and worlds and discovering rabbit holes to fall down. It has been that way my whole life, regardless of what the trends are in the art world.
Beyond Shadows - Acrylic painting by Greg “Craola” Simkins.
JAW: What does the beinArt Collective represent for you?
GS: The beinArt Collective has always been a place where artists who have strayed off of the traditional path of making images have found a place to belong. The dreamers and story tellers have a welcome place to exist amongst each other because of this outlet. :)
JAW: Do you have anything you’d like to share with our readers about upcoming exhibits or other projects?
GS: I am happy to announce that my first large-scale resin sculpture in collaboration with Silent Stage Gallery called “Beyond the Sea” is about to be released. It stands at close to 2 feet and is sculpted from the painting of the same name. I am very proud of this piece and the work that Silent Stage has done with it and hope it leads to more, larger sculpted works in the future. Seeing these pieces in 3D is how I have always imagined them in my mind, so I am very interested to seeing where this road leads.
Killing Time - Acrylic painting by Greg Craola Simkins.
This interview was written by Julie Antolick Winters for Beinart Gallery in 2016.
Julie Antolick Winters is a writer and editor residing in the state of Maryland, USA, in a small city near Washington, D.C. Julie cowrote the introduction for Black Magick: the Art of Chet Zar and co-copyedited this book and Kris Kuksi: Divination and Delusion for Beinart Publishing. She has also been conducting artist interviews for the Beinart Collective & Gallery since 2010. In addition to her work for the Beinart Gallery, she edits science articles and books, writes poetry and practices the art of negotiation with her son.
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