ERIN LAWLOR

Untitled, oil on canvas,116x89cm, 2012

 

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

Mainly a series of oils on paper right now. I'm about to move, so I'm a little wary of bulk at the moment. Storage is always an issue. I'll be working in the countryside for a month or two in between moves and I'm looking forward to working on some large canvases there.

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

 

 

I work most days, simply because I'm not a very nice person to be around when I don't, although how much time I have is very variable, with my other jobs and having kids. There's always an in-between time of doing nothing when I first arrive in the studio. I often start by finishing up the crossword puzzle I've started on the way up in the bus. It's funny but I know a couple of painters who do that and I suppose there's something visually satisfying and no doubt reassuring about a finished crossword. I suppose we all have our different ways of appropriating the space and re-appropriating the work itself. It takes a bit of time, looking at what's in there, what interests me in what's gone before, what I'll allow to survive and what hasn't made it through the night. Coffee, and cigarettes. So many rituals of approach, and the inevitable preparation of paint, brushes…There's an in-between time, which is more about setting aside the outside world and a letting go than it is about any technical preparation. At some point I turn the music up loud and just get on with it, and stop when I run out of light or time or floor-space.






Erin Lawlor - Paris 2013 from Calvin Walker on Vimeo.

 

 

 

 

 

Can you describe your studio and how, if at all, that affects your work space?

 

 

I've been working basically in the same studio for the last sixteen years, one room with lots of light and a very leaky roof in eastern Paris. It's small, which inevitably effects the size of what I do there, and even the amount - as I work on the ground there quickly comes a point when there's just no more room, I have to wait for things to dry sufficiently to lift them up. Luckily, although I work in oil, the dissolvent I use considerably speeds up the drying time, so that's not quite as constraining as it may sound.

I only work in oil up there, and the whole place is covered in it, the floor is encrusted with a build-up from over the years, a bit like a Eugene Leroy painting. I sometimes work in a slightly bigger space out in the countryside, and I do find it easier to work on the larger pieces there, partly because I can have a few down at the same time, even if I still tend to work on them one after another rather than going back and forth. I also find there's a freedom in that it's less encumbered with past works; whether it's that or the fact that it's further south means that I find it easier there not to overwork, or over-stifle the colors. I don't yet know where or what my next studio space will be, so I'm curious myself to see if and how it will affect the work.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

 

 

One painting very much leads to another. There's a certain amount of background work that goes on before I get down to the nitty-gritty, so that takes the pressure off the starting point, helps the warming-up process. It's not that these don't matter- they do, in terms of initial choices of format, tonal values, but it's a build-up over days or weeks. There's a gradual build-up before the culminating phase of work. I think it was de Kooning who said that painting a picture was like crossing the road, and at some point I find I have to just have to propel myself into it and take the leap. In that final phase it's more a question of being attentive to what's going on in the canvas for me, there's an internal logic that's takes over, the moment Guston described as leaving even yourself at the door. And of course I never know it is the final phase. Despite the quick drying times there's a few days when I can still erase the whole thing and start over, and I do that constantly. It's only over time that I ever know if I think a piece is really finished. And even then, not so much finished, as satisfactory, if it has life of its own, and one that interests me. I self-edit constantly, destroy a lot, I'm very wary of complacency.

 

The changes there are are gradual ones, I'm not really aware of any ruptures as such. I know my colors have got brighter recently, perhaps the influence of my recent trip to California for a show, but I think it was on its way prior to that, perhaps more a question of confidence. And I sense there's a freeing-up at the moment, of the brushwork and space, as well as the chromatic range, but again its a gradual evolution.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are you have most problem resolving?

 

 

I'm not sure I really think of things in those terms, at least not any more. I certainly don't have the conceit to believe I'm resolving anything, and it's the endless fascination with paint, and what transpires on the canvas, and precisely the things I don't control, that keep me wanting to go into the studio every day, and that have brought me to the point I'm at now. Over the years I think I've begun to accept the fact of being the painter that I am, rather than the painter I'd perhaps had an idea I would have liked to have been when I started out, and that perhaps makes it less of a struggle as such. A recent stint at curating brought that home to me, too, working with other artists, bringing together other people's work and highlighting dialogue's between them, makes it that much easier to come to terms with all the valid and interesting directions I don't take in my own work.

 

Of course there have been various technical issues, over the years, finding a satisfactory replacement for turps, which I developed an allergy to. And size - the relationship to space and volume changes dramatically according to format, but those are points of exploration and interest, and choices, at the end of the day, rather than problems as such. The only constant struggle, again, is probably complacency, avoiding the facile, trying to go beyond what works merely in terms of color and composition to something that has presence or sense of its own.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

 

 

I experiment very little with other materials, at least not in the studio. I came back to painting through a love of oil, I'm an oil junkie, the endless possibilities of color, the light changing with the direction of the brushstroke, but also the texture and smell of it. I draw and paint with felt-pens or ink outside the studio, but that's through being an obsessive mark-maker. And I do some work on silk, and ceramics, but those are parallel activities to me, rather than part of the process, even if they are inevitably informed by what goes on in the studio, and vice versa.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

As far as the work in progress is concerned, I have no idea which will survive or where they'll go next, but surely that's the point?

 

On a practical level, some will hopefully be heading out to the States. I've recently started working with the George Lawson gallery in L.A. and he's just opened a new space in San Francisco. There are also a couple of group shows coming up in France in the next few months. Inevitably a lot will be going into storage at least for now while I work out exactly where I'm going next myself…

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 

Just thank you for inviting me - I've discovered the work of so many wonderful painters through your blog.

 

 

 

 

 

Untitled, oil on canvas, 65x50cm, 2012

JEN HITCHINGS

All Hail Tequila, 2012, oil on wood, 16 x 20"

 

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

Right now, I'm working on a slightly new body of paintings, both oil and acrylic, on medium-sized canvas and wood. The new work has become a lot more psychotic, psychedelic, and a combination of dream-like and nightmarish than it used to be. Words have very recently made their way into the paintings, as of the most recent two. I've also just started experimenting with iridescent and metallic paints. Gold and silver do amazing things with light and give a lot of dimension to the scenes I create.

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

 

 

I use my studio as both a place to paint and an exhibition space to show other artists. Which is a lot more work than I thought it would be. I unfortunately only paint during "open hours," two nights a week, and sometimes on Mondays, my day off from work. Luckily, I work at Pierogi in Williamsburg, so I'm around amazing art and artists there anytime that I'm not making work and doing "normal" things that people have to do day to day.

 

 

 

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

 

 

My studio is in Bushwick, which is amazing because I'm surrounded by artists and galleries. I paint and keep all of my work and supplies in about 80 square feet. Between working full-time, doing studio visits, and trying to see other shows, my life feels a little hectic at times. I think the craziness and thus anxiety makes its way into the paintings too.

 

 

 

 

BitchRide, 2012, Acrylic on canvas, 24 x 24"

 

 

 

 Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

 

 

I paint from photographs, usually of a group of people at a party or some kind of celebration. They're always of very sporadic and candid moments. I'll usually draw from the photograph first, and then make the painting from the drawing. The first moments on the canvas are always the most terrifying for me. I'll sometimes paint an irrelevant landscape, or use a palette inspired by some image in my studio to start. Once the canvas is covered with paint, I'll start painting from the drawing. A lot of things in the original photograph make it into the painting, proportions are often accurate, but during the process of painting many objects/figures grow and become attached to one another.

 

 

 

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

 

 

I often find it hard to know when a painting is done. It's something I always ask other artists, and I feel like there should be some answer, but in reality there probably is not. Once I stop working on something for about a week, I usually can't bring myself to touch it again. I also am battling with scale. The paintings are slowly getting larger, because I'd like to eventually paint large, but have tried and failed many times. Working from 4x6" photographs makes me feel like the paintings have to stay small and intimate, but I don't want to limit myself to that constraint.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

 

 

I prefer to work with paint on wood or canvas, though there are a million things I would like to try to do. I get too nervous about jumping into a completely unknown terrain, so I normally take baby steps. I hated acrylic until I received a ton of free acrylic paint, and decided to try it, so that's a start. I'd love to try working with ceramics. Allison Schulnik, who's by far my most admired painter, makes these beautiful fired ceramics and they really made me want to experiment with the 3-dimensional world.

 

 

 

 

 

One side of WEEKNIGHTS during the current exhibition,

WHY SO SERIOUS? Exhibiting the work of 30 artists

 

 

 

 

 

 

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

I hope to make a lot more of this kind of work, enough to have a solo show, within the next few months. There's currently 5 pieces, and I need more than that. A friend of mind kindly asked me to put some work up at Mama Joy's, a new soul-food-esque restaurant and really cool bar in Bushwick, and that will be the first time they are exhibited together, which I'm excited about.

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 

I really appreciate the opportunity to share my artistic experience on Studio Critical! Also, in the months of running the exhibition space in my studio, called WEEKNIGHTS, I've made some amazing friendships and have had SO much fun at the openings. I don't even have words to describe how grateful and appreciative I am of the support that I've received. Any other artists out there are welcome to submit work, and of course to view exhibitions. Information can be found here.

Adolescence, 2012, oil on canvas, 18 x 30 inches

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

PATRICK MICHAEL FITZGERALD

Consolidation, oil & collage on linen, 55 x 46 cm, 2012

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

A group of paintings that have floating or hanging forms over a more structured painted background. Some of these paintings are older unfinished works, which have become transformed with the new elements. These floating forms are directly painted on the surface or collaged pieces of painted cloth or paper. I often work with them flat on the floor or on a low table or bench. In these paintings there is an ambiguity, it is unclear whether things are disintegrating or coming together. I feel time is the governing force in these paintings; their shallow spaces arise slowly from the process of time.

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

I have a pretty regular routine. Most painting is done in the mornings, as that is when I prefer the light. In the afternoons or evenings, and if I’m not teaching, I usually work on drawings in an area of the studio with a drawing table. There are moments of doing nothing, of being mentally or emotionally engaged but without physically working. Doing nothing is doing something. Learning what not to do and what to avoid is just as important as what I choose to do.




 

 

 

 

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

 

 

My studio is on street level in an apartment block. It’s about 130 square meters with a high ceiling and has two large ceiling to floor windows, one of which faces northwest. As I usually work on many paintings at the same time, the large workspace allows me to line them all up and see them all together if need be. I also have a good storage area where I can hide things from view for periods of time (something I find an absolute necessity during the process). The space is also very suitable for presenting work when I have studio visits. My studio is a kind of oasis, a place I constantly escape to, but also a place to return to things in a more intimate way. It’s a sensorial place as well as a mental space.

 

 

 

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

 

 

My process has become very organic; reworking things, interweaving things... paintings can have their origins in the history of my own work or the wider history of art. Some small aspect or detail can be enough. A memory of something or even certain sensations. I also use my immediate surroundings and day-to-day life as a source. For me this is important, it’s a way of transforming it into something else. The everyday can have a blind weight to it; the challenge is how to open it up, break it open even. The marvellous is always close at hand and often overlooked. There is also an element of recycling; discarded paintings or studio debris can be incorporated into a work, something from nothing, a kind of radical humility.   

 

 

 

 

 

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

 

 

One could consider each painting as a problem to be resolved but I shy away from this idea. A painting should be a lived thing, it is lived through in its making and in the viewing, as such it will often contain certain failures or inherent problems. It is very often the case that the unresolved has a lot of truth in it. For me a painting is an entity that should not depend on a fixed one-dimensional face to the world. It is an accumulation of evidence which reflects the life of its own making and the daily life that has gone into it.
The only real things that need resolving are those that most people have...life things, practical things. In my case, it’s creating a balance, which enables me to work, finding time and a certain tranquil state of mind. This is not always easy to achieve.



Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

 

 

Essentially, I use traditional painting materials such as oil paint on linen or canvas... but I will often add other things, collaged elements, flanking wooden additions on one side of the painting, holes or openings in the surface etc. But I need to have certain limits. They define and articulate the freedom of a painting. I really don’t like painting that uses a lot of very obvious techniques or elaborate processes. I have always tried to find the most direct way of working at any given moment, keeping things within certain limits enables me to do this. Painting is a bodily extension of thought, a haptic experience. It arises from the dark pools of who we are. Light and dark light weave, forms arise through marks, colour and contrast and if I am lucky and have followed the painting to where it wishes to go (although this is not always clear), the painting will get to a state of affairs in which it pushes me out of its limits and yet holds my attention at the same time.   

 

Stages, oil & collage on linen, 104 x 86 cm, 2012

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

That is impossible to say because I’m seeking an unknown outcome.

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 

I recently read something by George Steiner on Heraclitus in his book The Poetry of Thought, which expresses something I can identify with (I have added the word painting):

“He quarries language (painting) before it weakens into imagery, into eroded abstraction. His abstractions are radically sensory and concrete, but not in the opportunistic mode of allegory. They enact, they perform thought where it is still, as it were, incandescent… Where it follows on the shock of discovery, of naked confrontation with its own dynamism, at once limitless and bounded.”

Finally these words by Juhani Pallasmaa from The Embodied Image define a wider territory where my paintings might function:

“In my view, in the near future, the notion of the ‘real’ will increasingly imply what is justifiable in the biological perspective, both past and future. The notion of the real in our settings of life cannot be endlessly expanded and relativised; we are are biological and historical beings whose entire physical, metabolic and neural systems have been optimally tuned to the reality of physical, ecological and biological facts. The human reality, as well as our future, is undeniably grounded in our biological and cultural past as much as in our wisdom concerning the future.       


    
 

Dissolution, oil & collage on linen, 46 x 39 cm, 2011

 

 

 





NIKHOLIS PLANCK

Untitled, acrylic on linen, 24" x 18", 2012

 

 

 

 



What are you working on in your studio right now?


Specifically some things for the La Art Book Fair in February and a pop-up project so to speak here in Baltimore. I am always working, whether it is for an actual project/show or just working. Everything is riffing off itself. I do this to get to this and that to get to that; the collage work is in between actual painting and drawing goes on all the time. In general my work has been dealing with it’s own scale and size.
 


Can you describe your working routine?


Coffee, incense.…I tend to do work right when I get up in the late a.m. after brewing some joe and that means being in the studio, looking over work from the night before (or trashing it), maybe taking some pictures to chill myself out about the nocturnal atrocities. Late night I do much of the work, even if I am using my satellite studio (24 hour fedex-kinkos). I guess the combination of overworked senses really pushes me and I don’t have to worry about any appointments or text messages etc. I would consider myself of thee nocturnal markmaking variety.

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

Greatly so. Space limitation dictates the size of work and it is something I try to make my work about. Conceptually as a vantage and window. I would never want my work to look or act different than the place it is made, if I have a huge space I would make huge work most certainly and if my space were to become smaller I would make smaller work. This seems like a (one of many) concern for artists working right now and I think it can help an artist develop and in turn open more opportunities where you allow yourself to flourish within limitations, especially of your studio or space.

 

 

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

 

 

Usually I am always drawing. The drawing helps me to just always be working and I couldn't function without drawing every day, as lame as that sounds. But to just work things out and doing something over and over is really important and internal to my practice/process. I suppose I can’t stress how important it is to have a few different “surfaces” going on that activate each other literally and figuratively. For instance with some relief type “paintings” I end up using them to produce rubbings or relief prints before I may paint on them. This is like a very easy understanding of how my work is in constant dialogue with itself.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

 

 

The tired but true notion of something immediate. How to translate the hand that is evident in my drawing onto the canvas and or painting. What I deem suitable to be painted and not painted. Sometime something so called successful as just a simple drawing but when translated to painting fails miserably. That failure though is really what it is all about and resolving is sort of the process. You know I resolve to not succeed in a general way. Also dealing with my photographic interventions of my studio and documentation of work itself which feeds into my studio's dialogue. I try to approach the camera like a drawing utensil, not to get too burdened with a perfect image or a good painting, it just sort of happens and is already there so to speak. I suppose I do have some kind of setups but since they involve studio debris I can poke fun at the studio and myself. In general though I hope to never resolve anything or else it wouldn't much of a challenge or uphill journey. . .

 

But I guess I am having trouble resolving a horizontal painting, but who isn’t? 

Installation @ Sophiajacob 2012

 

 

 

 

 



Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?
 

Parameters are indeed set and very important to my practice and within those parameters there is rich variation. I use a simple set up of acrylics, mediums, general hardware (caulk, epoxy) and leftover prints/xeroxes from projects and books/zines. Recently I have been interested in even more semi found surfaces, rather than your normal old paper but material that is art historically charged (particularly phone book pages which are directly speaking to F. Kline...) and materials given to me by colleagues or ransacked from life drawing classrooms. I utilize xerox machines and a large format home printer for my graphic and collage work so I am constantly exploiting different parameters in this technology which is how I approach my painting as well within my simple pallette.

I have mockingly described my paintings as grisaille to cohorts.



What does the future hold for this work?


An honest response to this is that I don't necessarily consider a future for much of this work, or my work in general. . .I mean I don't want to have to consider the future of a work because that sort of pressure would cause me to not want to make it but just making it and the process is what really holds me in my practice. But sure, I would hope to present for instance, these collage works in some sort of setting, either individually or in a small grouping in some kind of group show/presentation. I like to imagine that the sort of surface driven and collage works would be this other look into my ventures and practice so they would be viewed and considered alongside other more straightforward painting work or my book work.

Untitled, acrylic on linen, 24" x 18", 2012

 

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 





MARY ADDISON HACKETT

Front Row Seats at the Theater of the Absurd,
2012, oil on linen

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

I'm working on paintings of still lifes, mirrors, interiors, and a self-portrait. There's a landscape and a few other things in progress as well. I'm also working on a series of watercolors for a separate project.

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

 

I wake up early and spend a couple of hours doing office work, going for a run, prepping canvases and anything else that doesn't involve a paintbrush in hand. Sometimes I get a late start, but after that I average about 6-8 hours a day of studio time depending on what I've got going on. I take a short espresso break at 2pm and continue working until I feel comfortable stopping. I usually take Sundays off.  My teaching schedule was spread out this semester, so I had shorter hours during the week and put in overtime on the weekends. I prefer having long, uninterrupted hours/days in the studio, but even just walking through the studio will prompt me to pick up a brush or think about the work from a new perspective. I try and change out of my pajamas before painting, but that doesn't always happen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

 

 

I've worked in several studio spaces, ranging from barely legit live/work spaces in urban areas of Chicago, to a converted garage behind my home in Culver City, California. My work has evolved over the course of my practice and has been affected in subtle, and not so subtle ways, by my response to each location. A couple of years ago I moved into my childhood home to take care of some things, and in doing so my studio and domestic life became glommed together as one. The work became more representational, and I began using artifacts and observations from my surroundings as starting points for reconstructing personal narratives. I've been working moderately small, ranging from 7 inches to 5 feet. I can be fairly prolific  and paint quickly when I want to, though my current process is slower. I work on easels, tables, the floor, wherever. If it's small enough, I hold a painting in my hand or cradled in my arm and hover over my palette table while I'm painting. I use two adjoining rooms as the main paint studio, but I also move a small easel around to explore different settings. I work in the garage when the weather is nice. My studio is on a couple of acres- it’s not rural, but there's a sense of space and privacy. In a way, the work is feeding off the isolation and the entanglement of home and studio, but I anticipate a time when I may need to move on to a more standard way of working again, whatever they may be, and it's possible the work will shift again.

 

Transplant with Lady Painter and Prince Aha
2012, oil on canvas, 14 x 11"

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.


It can begin with a memory, an object, an observation, something I read. Anything, really. When I was working abstractly, I would mentally store all of this information and approach a canvas using process as my starting point. Now that I'm working more representationally the hardest  part is choosing what to paint. After that gets decided, I'm freer to navigate off course, but I still like having a tangible thing nearby as a reference. I vary my approach to painting and don't think too much about how I'm going to paint something. The paintings are as much about the physical process of painting and the inherent possibilities within that process to generate meaning, as they are about what's depicted on the canvas. Much of my process involves trying to get something right and yet in the end I'm not concerned with correctness. Sometimes I think I've willed a painting into being.



What are you having the most trouble resolving?


I worry that I've become a boring painter and even worse, I secretly relish this. And then there's that thing between abstraction and representation I so often mull over. I angst quite a bit and can be full of self-doubt. I have trouble resolving that as well.







Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?


I'm pretty much a purist now



What does the future hold for this work?


One of my self-portraits is in About Face, a portraiture show at ACME. in Los Angeles (Nov 17-Dec 22, 2012), and I'm participating in the MAS: Attack (Mutual Admiration Society) show at the LA Mart in January. The watercolors are part of a temporary public art installation in the Tom Bradley International Terminal at LAX next year. I have a solo scheduled at a university art gallery in Nashville late 2013 or 2014. As far as the direction of the work, I have no idea. I trust my process, but I still have a sense of relief whenever a painting finally takes hold.



Is there anything else you would like to add?


1) I feel fortunate to have met many of the artists and painters whose work I respect.
2) If I had the time I’d write a love letter to Los Angeles. The painting community in LA is strong and supportive, and had a great deal of influence on me.
3) Thank you for inviting me to participate.

And Then DeKooning Said to Guston
2012, oil on linen, 7 x 5"

 

 

 



CHRIS MOSS

Amnesia Haze,

10 x 10" acrylic and hair on masonite, 2012

 

 

 

 

 

What are you working on in your studio right now?

 

 

I'm working on a series of paintings that are taking the shape of eleven 9 panel paintings. Each of the paintings is 8 x 8 inches with a lozenge shaped painting in the center. It's so new I don't even have pictures of any of them, nor have I really made sense of what they mean, though lately I've been thinking a lot about dogma, in particular what they call Russell's Teapot. I'm a skeptic, or at least I try to maintain a healthy amount of skepticism about everything. I can usually formulate a counter argument to any idea I have. Anyway the recent heads, especially the ones that look like Olmec heads or avatars, came out of one painting I made in 2007. At the time I made it I didn't know it would lead to these other paintings. I was working on a pretty diverse group of paintings, charting the territory that I've been exploring lately. Working serially is rather new to me, it's freeing in a way because it allows me to repeat ideas but remain inventive.

 

 

 

 

 

new work in progress (8 x 8" each)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Can you describe your working routine?

 

 

I wish it was more regular than it has been lately, I paint compulsively at times but this is not one of those times and I'm actually working on these new paintings very slowly. I do try to work every day but the kind of creative work I engage in varies from one day the next, right now I'm doing a lot more extra-studio work, work based on paintings. I've begun a few projects that are exclusively for an internet audience via my Tumblr page. One of those projects I've been posting lately is related to the toast heads, they're sort of opposite toast heads, made with photo editing software from photographs of the paintings, I've flipped and reversed the color of all 70 paintings. It makes for an eerie kind of negative picture. I like the idea of reversal, opposites - avatars, weirds and familiars. Also, looking at my work in reverse got me to open up my pallet a lot, I realized I don't always have to be so literal.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 Top: Biddy Early, 2011, 10 x 10 inches acrylic on masonite

Below: Thaitanic, 2012, 10 x 10 inches acrylic on masonite

 



 

 

 

 

 

Can you describe your studio space and how, if at all, that affects your work?

 

 

I rent a three bedroom apartment and the space that would be a spacious dining room for normal people is my studio. I covered the floor with pieces of masonite to keep floor clean. I usually work paintings flat on the floor so covering it was necessary if I want my rental deposit back. Living just down the hall from my studio has it's advantages, I can work whenever I have a spare moment, or I can just go to the studio to sit and think. It's also nice because I can make some moves and then walk down the hall to my office and do other work while they dry. It's just natural to me, living with the work while it's being made. The disadvantage to this relationship is that I've developed way of working that involves a little bit of tinkering, then wandering around the apartment doing other things, gathering the wash, checking facebook, reading a book. It's a way of working that's in a constant state of being distracted.

 

The other thing about working the way I do (on the floor) is it invites a lot of garbage and dirt and imperfections into the paintings, which I've come to like, even embrace. I sweep up a lot but  hairs and debris still get into the paint, and occasionally I'll keep hunks of paint from the bottom of containers or even from the floor to use in a painting later. I've even gone so far as sweeping up and dumping the dirt onto a wet surface. It gives the work a sense of having lived a life. I like the beleagured underdog, the defeated yet proud. So most of the figures in the paintings I make are losers.

 

 

 

 

Grid planning

 

 

 

 

 

Tell me about your process, where things begin, how they evolve etc.

 

 

Once you've been working as an artist for a number of years two things happen. 1. If you're honest about your experience and your work you end up becoming more and more yourself; less and less your heroes and 2. your work begins to flow naturally out of the work you've made in the past. I keep stacks of paper around and lots of half full notebooks and one of the things I do with them is get into hour long drawing sessions where I just make as many drawings as I can in an hour. It's constantly surprising to me when I look at old notebooks or old drawings just how long ago I first came upon a certain idea, just when I think an idea is really fresh I find it's been in one of these books for years. The exercise of making as many drawings as you can for an hour always produces new work somewhere down the line because at that rate you can't be totally aware of what you're doing, you can't give yourself a chance to edit. It's a good idea to make work this way, to be totally wasteful, just put it all out there and sort it out later (if ever).

 

 

 

What are you having the most trouble resolving?

 

 

This question took me the longest to answer, because I remember when I was younger being stuck and feeling like I couldn't resolve me and an idealized version of me. I gave up on the idealized version of me because I realized it was too encapsulated. It was holding me back. I'm pretty young but realizing I won't have time in this lifetime to make everything I imagine is kind of difficult and really there's no way to resolve this. Which ideas are worth pursuit and which ideas get scrapped, sometimes it's an easy choice, sometimes it's less easy to decide.

 

 

 

 

Untitled, 2010, 24 x 24 inches, acrylic on masonite

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do you experiment with different materials a lot or do you prefer to work within certain parameters?

 

 

Nothing good can come of complete freedom, art needs parameters, even artists who we think of as being completely free had their own set of parameters. The closest I can get to complete freedom is challenging myself to make 100 drawings in an hour, or 100 photoshop documents in an hour. The results are always surprising and they always lead to insights into my process and how I work. But again, there is a restraint in this challenge, two actually: 60 minutes and 100 results. I don't think it's possible to work more freely than to spend 6 seconds on a single idea before moving on to anotheridea.  Of course even this exercise has its own parameters. 

What does the future hold for this work?

 

 

Well, I'll keep making it. I have a solo show coming up next year, I'm pretty sure what I'm working on now will be in that. If you really want to keep up with me you can follow me on twitter @mrhopthescissor or check my website. I'm also on facebook if that's your thing.

 

 

 

 

 

Top: Sleestack, 2012, 10 x 10 inches acrylic on masonite

Below: Cali Blockhead, 2011, 10 x 10 inches acrylic on masonite

 

 

 

 

 

Is there anything else you would like to add?

 

 

One last thing, yes. Since you originally contacted me we've had a pretty devastating flood here in New York, I wrote a bit about it and I'm selling paintings and drawings to benefit flood assistance. For a reasonable price you can purchase something via my blog. All of the money from the sales will go to an organization called Occupy Sandy. They seem to be doing some good here on the ground, getting people the things they need to begin cleanup and recovery. The sale will conclude at the end of this year.