The Weakness of Symbolic Accuracy 2023 9.5”x4.5”x3” Acrylic Media, Canvas, Glue, Wood
Photo: James Hart

What part of the country did you grow up? (urban/rural) and how did that impact your childhood?

Until about the age of eight I lived in rural Southern Kentucky without indoor plumbing and electricity. I attended a one-room schoolhouse barefooted. My childhood was perfect because I knew nothing to which I could compare it.

What was the cultural or creative make up of your family?

Mine was a working class family. Both my mother and father worked sometimes at two jobs. They liked country music and would take me and my brother to outdoor concerts. With the exception of a reproduction, a sentimental scene of an old man praying at a table, and my mother’s small, decorative pictures of birds made from actual bird feathers, there was no visual art in the house that I can remember.

Do you remember the first art work/music/book/film that impacted your imagination?

My first art experiences were those of music, not visual art. When I was very young, 4 or 5, I would listen to and watch relatives and their friends play country and bluegrass music usually on someone’s front porch.

What initially draws or strikes one with your paintings and objects are the edges and profile – the juxtaposition, the unravelling, the crisp edge. Where do the forms originate from and how do they interact with the viewer?

Most of my works originate from an intention to deconstruct what traditional paintings have been. I invent alternatives to their conventions of painted surfaces placed frontally and traditionally held in frames of secondary visual interest. My pieces have normally been combinations of flat painted surfaces juxtaposed dimensionally. As such, they bridge the categorical gap between painting and sculpture. The painted surfaces I combine very seldom appear flat as I pursue some degree of pictorial effect, some kind of implied or illusion of space. The objects resulting from this fixed union of painted parts in three dimensions demand some degree of participation from their viewers. They require and direct a viewer’s movement to reveal themselves. The wall-mounted pieces I make are intended to be scrutinized, to play their parts in an animated and intimate encounter of seeing and contemplation.

While They Waited For Something Else 2023 7.75”x4”x.75”
Photo: James Hart

With the most recent series there is an organic, casual yet intentional handling of the canvas(es) and materials. How did this motif and series evolve?

My art objects are constructed as an integration of all their parts, even those hidden from view. Traditionally, much effort has been made to minimize a painting’s structural components from sight especially when painted surfaces were used primarily for representation, but artists have long recognized painting’s physical duality and explored alternative possibilities for what paintings can be. When exposed and intentionally included, its structural elements can play an important role in transforming traditional painting into something less familiar, extending it into more complex aesthetic objects where a variety of painted effects are integrated with numerous structural configurations. My recent series of works involve shaping glued layers of canvas into configurations which are self-supporting, an integration of surface and structural foundation.

Your titles are funny and complicated, How do you think about titles and your work? Are there literary references or writers that have informed this?

Since the art I make is intended to be autonomous, made to escape referential connections, I’ve often used “Untitled” to name my works. I have also titled my works for what they physically do like “Turn,” “Bend,” “Face,” and “Fold.” In recent years I’ve begun to just make up titles, not so much in connection with the pieces they’re attached to, but more so for cataloging the work, distinguishing one from another. On days when I’m feeling poetically creative I just make up titles and add them to a list. Most if not all result from mental wanderings and emotional states, my vague mostly negative relationships to the world and the opinions I have of it. Seldom am I conscious of any specific literary source from which my titles are derived. I do like that they can appear to have a life of their own standing at odds with works to which they’re applied. In some perverse way I also like the obvious confusion resulting from any serious attempt to connect a work with its distant title, maybe my way of emphasizing autonomy.

What historic artist or movement do you return to again and again?

My studies of art history have given me a rather large array of artists and movements from which to develop favorites. At various times in my life I’ve been exceptionally fascinated and drawn to some artists more than others. My fondness for Jan Vermeer has remained constant as has my interest in Marcel Duchamp, Jasper Johns, and Andy Warhol. My personal aesthetics have been developed and exercised from Minimalist object makers like Jo Baer and John McCracken.

What contemporary artists or museum are you inspired by?

I find all art museums wonderfully fascinating. They inspire me, but also make me a little sad. After grad school I worked in a major museum for a few years, long enough to realize the immense richness and complexity which art museums embody. I believe my sentimental feelings from museum experiences stem from choosing not to devote my working life to the demands of curatorial research.

I respect so many contemporary artists, too many to list. Gerhart Richter’s nonobjective paintings are breathtaking. His ingenious play of imagery between representation and photography based abstraction is amazing. In addition, I’m exceptionally moved by the works of Jenny Saville and Leonardo Drew.

*Skew 6.* 2019 10.5”x3.13”x1.5” Acrylic Media, Board, Wood

When you are feeling stuck or unmoored, what do you do to shift the energy?

I seldom get stuck, but sometimes when I feel tired of working within a serial sequence of objects I take a day off from the studio. When I return I look for inspiration from studio debris. The residue from previous constructions usually presents possibilities for

new work. Also, while away from the studio I normally get numerous ideas for what to make usually before going to sleep. These are normally formulated from thinking about the materials with which I’m presently working. Most ideas are discarded, some are tried.

When you are getting ready to start a new piece or series, how do you begin? With materials? Color? A title?

I can have preconceived notions of what to do, but new work begins when I get my hands on actual materials. My art is made by a sequence of aesthetic judgements: what goes with this or that, is the combination doing something visually interesting and exciting, and how can the components be physically joined together as a viable part of the piece.

Do you listen to music in the studio? What have you been listening to recently, or what has been touchstones?

My taste in music is eclectic. I like most anything with the exception of most commercial pop. I make playlists on Spotify for studio listening. A recent combination of tunes includes: The Ex, Liaisons Dangereuses, Front 242, Talking Heads, DAF, Devo, and Lou Reed.

I love Classic Rock, Folk, old Blues, Lofi, Classic Country, Industrial, Contemporary Classical ( Philip Glass), Klezmer, Roots, and just about anything else. I always return to Dylan, Leonard Cohen, early Stones, Tom Waits, John Prine, Radiohead, Talking Heads, and early Phosphorescent. I’m sure I’ve left out some favorites.

Do you surround yourself with reference materials or colors? What does your studio look like?

My studio is white with track lighting and some power tools. It has racks for storage, a small metal table with white chair, and a hanging plant under a skylight.

A few show cards and printed matter is kept on the table. The only real reference material is the array of discarded pieces of wood and other various stuff which fills a large bin.

You moved to Santa Fe after a teaching and art career in Chicago – how has that impacted your life, and what is your favorite thing about living there?

Moving to Santa Fe was a way to begin a new life phase. When I turned seventy I realized that if I didn’t personally initiate changes there would be none. I live differently in Santa Fe. I share my life with a partner and a dog. I have fewer social activities, less immediate friends with whom to interact. While, to some, this might sound isolating, for me, it’s been an opportunity to focus on my art making and my own well-being.

At the end of a studio day, how do you extract yourself? Any closing rituals or routines?

I do have a routine at the end of my studio day. I vacuum up excess dust, turn off music, pull down the overhead door which covers the large window, turn off the track lights, and lock the door.

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