contemporary art – Page 3

An Interview with JonOne (Part 3)

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photo by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

John Perello, AKA JonOne or Jon156, is an American graffiti artist living and working in Paris. In 1984, he founded the graffiti group 156 All Starz, before relocating to Paris in 1987, where he quickly made a name for himself. Working on a wealth of projects during his long career, and exhibiting on a global scale, his style is colorful and expressive.

In the final installment of their three part interview, Alexandra Kosloski and JonOne discuss “keeping it real” and his recent performance with the Trops.

Continued from Part 2

Part 2

AK: It sounds like creativity and painting and art is necessity to you, but does it ever feel like a job? Is there a toll that it takes? You were saying there’s a lot of baggage and distraction as you age.

JonOne: No, no, no, no, I wouldn’t say it feels like a job. Because I know people that work, and I wouldn’t want to do what they do– even if they get paid a lot of money. I’ve already worked. I work so hard to be where I’m at today. It wasn’t easy. It was so hard to be free and do whatever you want to do. I mean, it’s just so hard to live off your passion. It’s extremely difficult.

And I sometimes tell people,“when was the last time you bought a painting?”. So few people buy paintings, and so many people are painting. So it’s just so difficult to survive as an artist. Of course, as an artist there’s different levels; there’s the blue chip artist and then the regular artist. Everybody defines their own way of being an artist. There’s no set rules, what works for you may not necessarily work for me.

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photo by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

Like you may work in a gig gallery, and if I work at that gig gallery, I may find myself so bored working with those people, it would suck the soul out of me. So what works for other artists may not necessarily work for another artist. So everybody has to find their way to survive because… You gotta have a studio… life ain’t cheap. And painting is a rich man’s sport. The minute you start putting stuff in galleries, there’s a gallerist behind it and they’re trying to sell it. It’s not like a job but you’re selling your soul.

The thing about it is how do you keep it fun? How do you keep yourself always enjoying yourself? How do you protect yourself from people? You gotta protect yourself from people so you don’t get sucked into a system. One way or the other, people are gonna spit at you and you’re gonna spit at people. But how do you protect yourself from not being spit at so much? Because the minute you expose yourself, people are always gonna criticize you, tell you’re a sucker, you’re doing this, you’re a sell out, this and that. But how do you maintain your sanity? You know, because fame, money, and success can destroy a person.

So the way I am able to maintain my sanity and protect myself is through my art. And the process of painting has always been something that I enjoy doing, and that, nobody can take away from me. I protect that little joy I have from painting. That’s what I mean. The other part is just like formalities… It’s not formalities– but it’s just the things you’ve got to deal with because painting in itself is just 50% of the work. The other 50% is like selling yourself and seeing people and that’s something you got to deal with. But I try to enjoy that 50% is me. You know, that’s my part of joy. That’s why I don’t have chairs in my studio. So, you know, people don’t come and spend the whole day and suck my energy. So that part, that 50% belongs to me.

And I choose what I give to people. Say I gotta make some money– I’m not going to give them my masterworks. What people give me is what I give them. If you give me a certain amount of energy, then I give you back that energy, too. I’m not going to give you more energy than you deserve.

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photo by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

AK: You are very unique in that way because it feels like a lot of contemporary artists– like you said, it’s a rich man sport, so there’s this common path of getting a BFA and then an MFA and having this long vetting period where you’re not getting a lot of gratification… and you went a pretty different route.

JonOne: Yeah, definitely. I mean, I was like a street star when I was young. Sometimes when you get out of art schools and stuff like that, nobody really knows you, you got to build up, you may find a gallery– that helps. But I was already recognized for what I was doing when I was painting in the streets. Fame and success in my circle was something that I already knew. I just didn’t know the money part, you know. But fame was something I had to deal with when I was young.

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photo by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

AK: Do you think that the commercial aspects of the art world can affect an artist’s practice and how they produce work? And does it affect you?

JonOne: That whole word “commercial” is a big taboo. But you know, everybody has their own little situation going on. Some people don’t have to sell so many artworks because they have low overheads, or maybe they got rich parents, or the situation is just completely different. Maybe they have a business that has money coming in from other sources. And that’s not my case. Sometimes it’s hard for me to believe that I have so much responsibilities on top of me and so there has to be a matter of success and… selling, the whole aspect of selling. It’s a bad sign for me if all my paintings stay in my studio, you know, they have to come out of my studio. If they stay in my studio, it’s a bad sign. It means I’m going to have different types of problems.

I don’t really care what people say. I’m doing this for me. So what people think about me… you know…because those people who criticize you and things like that, those are the people that if you fall off, they’ll disappear in a second. They won’t be there for you. So I’m just worried for myself, really. Every day is just like “How am I going to keep the show on?”. And so that’s really my big, big, big concern every day. Because a lot of people switch off; sometimes they start doing paintings and then two years later they’re doing something else, another trend. But I’ve been doing this for so long and living off it for so long… that I give myself a pat on the back.

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photo by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photos by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

AK: So it feels like that’s kind of been your philosophy. That you’ve been unselfconscious and just doing it and then all the other things follow.

JonOne: Some people are really hard on themselves and they’re their worst critics. They let the exterior come inside the interior, you know, like criticism of people saying this and that. But I’ve been through so much shit that I come back down to earth. And I know where I come from and I know what I’ve done. I always come back down to earth. Like I don’t drive no fancy cars, I just try to have as much money as I can so I can pay people off, so I can be at peace when I paint.

But I know how it is, the starving artist thing. You know, when you try to keep it real…that word… “I gotta keep it real”. Shit… Like, yeah, I try to be open to opportunities, especially now to young people like you. I’m investing my time with you because I believed in you when I met you. So I say to myself, “you’re the future” and who knows what you’re going to do in the future? So I’m investing in you. I try to keep an open mind and not be like, “if you’re not writing for this magazine I don’t think it’s worth my time”. Just like you.

How many times has it happened to me that I’ve been like “Nah, I ain’t gonna do that,” and then that person becomes somebody humongous. Like, what a dumbass. You work with a lot of older people, established people. Shit. You never know what happens. You never know who’s who. You got to be open and flexible, you gotta be a little bit loose.

AK: So are there any current projects you’re really excited about?

JonOne: Oh yes. Well, I’m going to do a performance with The Trops. Just great. I’m really excited about that. Extremely exciting.

AK: Could you talk a little bit more about that or is it kind of a surprise?

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photo by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

JonOne: Not a surprise. Well… it’s sort of like a mystery. I’m pretty good at doing performances and getting people involved in my art that I do. Since I don’t let people inside my studio, it allows people to see the process of how I paint without revealing too much of myself. I kind of give them a little bit of the experience of what creation is about, and I think that’s a special moment. I remember being in studios sometimes, and just being there in front of artists when they were painting, and I would be like, “Wow, that’s so crazy”. So part of my performance is that. It’s just showing people the way I create these abstract images and opening up to my world. It’s going to be music, and I get into some sort of trance and yes, it becomes something really exciting for me to do.

JonOne

Performance at The Trops: Poesy

Photo by Adrian Crispin 2023 @adrian_crispin (IG)

An Interview with JonOne (Part 3) Read More »

Interview

An Interview with JonOne (Part 2)

Artist Profile, Interview / Alexandra Kosloski

JonOne

Push the Buttons

Photo by Bruno Brounch

In part 2 of their 3 part interview, JonOne tells Alexandra Kosloski about the state of his practice and his unique approach in life and art.

Continued from Part 1

Part 1

AK: Do you ever feel like your experience with graffiti gave you a particular advantage– or maybe a disadvantage– in the institutional art world?

JonOne: Well, I’ve always been an outsider. It would be nice, of course, to be challenged in a lot of different types of areas, but you cannot be everywhere or satisfy everyone. So, what I try to do is create an exciting life for myself above everything. I try to– no matter what opportunities are given to me– I try to live my life. As I should be living my life, you know, and not depend on people, that they’re gonna come and save my day. I really don’t believe in that. Sometimes it happens, it’s always a payoff to do anyway. But I tried to live in a free way, no matter what.

Because it was just so hard to access the art world. It’s just so complicated. And what’s difficult is to be able to continue throughout all the years, and I’m very grateful. Forty years, I’m still painting, and I have a studio and I have assistants– which is tiring. And I was able to raise a family through art, so I’m grateful for the things I have and the things that I don’t have. Well, whatever. Maybe it’ll come around later on– yeah, I wouldn’t mind doing a museum show. You know, why not?

JonOne

Civil Rights

Photo by Bruno Brounch

AK: So why did you move in that direction? Because going from what you’re describing at the start to mentioning a museum show– it feels like there’s some steps to take in between that. What was the catalyst for that?

JonOne: Like to go from, let’s say, vandalism or graffiti– which is beautiful also– to working inside doing canvases and things like that.

AK: Right. And I’ll pinpoint your move from New York to Paris, did that move play a role?

JonOne: Oh, yeah, it was one of the best moves ever made in my life, to have moved. It was like I was blessed.

But you know, it wasn’t like I was blessed. I always had a vision of being different. So when I say, hip hop, and all that stuff… I was always listening to a lot of different types of music. I was hanging out with a lot of different types of people. I wasn’t just limiting myself to hang out with Blacks, or Hispanics, I hung out with a lot of different people from all over the world. I already spoke two languages, which were Spanish and English. And I was very open to things. I wasn’t just uptown, I was hanging out a lot downtown. So for me to find myself in Paris, there’s no coincidences, right. Even today, I listen to a lot of different types of music, a lot of different types of dads. It’s a way of cultivating myself. So to have moved to France, it was just a transition for me that was like, okay, I really experienced New York, let me see what I can do here. And that’s the way it just became a way of moving on and spreading my art to other people.

AK: It just felt like a logical next step.

JonOne: Yeah. Because at the time when I left New York, the trains were being painted over. And they were really hard on graffiti writers, on vandals, really, really hard. Which they shouldn’t have been because in Europe, everybody was more cool about it there. And New York was supposed to be the land of free and the brave and all that stuff, but they were too much– just too… you know.

So here, I was able to continue to paint freely and not feel like I was being persecuted. A little bit like the jazz musicians were; that moved from New York or from the US and moved over to Europe, that felt more free expressing themselves in Europe than in the States. That’s the way I felt.

JonOne

Cool It Down

Photo by Bruno Brounch

AK: I do want to talk more about painting. What does a typical day in a studio look like for you?

JonOne: Well, it’s very complicated working in a studio for me. I was thinking about that today because some people from the outside world– they don’t really understand. It’s not like when you start, like when you’re a young artist, you got less baggage. But as you get older, you get more baggage to carry. It’s like the difference between dating a young guy and dating an older guy. The older guy looks good and everything, but he has all this baggage and you’re not really sure if you want to deal with this. Because you might want to just spend time with the guy, but the guy may be so complicated, you know.

Like when you paint for a while, things become more complicated. I mean, creativity wise, I’ve gained a lot of experiences throughout all the years, and that’s something that you can’t take away from me, because I’ve done a lot of different types of projects, and I know my craft pretty well, I know how to express myself, so that’s all good.

But at the same time, you create expenses around you. So when you create expenses, then you got to deal with a lot of different types of people that are gonna free you up in a way so that you’re not stressed out in your studio that much.

So that’s the baseline. Now, a typical day in my studio, I try to start by taking care of myself, first of all, because you need a good body to paint. So I go to the gym and I come here around 11 o’clock. And then I got to deal with assistants that are waiting for me to tell them what I want to do. I got people here that are going to ask me questions, you know, I’m not like, alone in my studio and just creating, listening to music. So I’ve got to deal with them first, right. And once I get them out the way and they beat, then I can paint. But then I got my girl calling me up, and I got the kids– you know, it’s complicated to create. But I’m here right now and I’m painting.

So there’s challenges at every level, at every level when you paint. So like I was saying, I went to a lot of different types of places recently– I was in South Africa and Bangkok, Alabama, I was in London. I absorbed a lot of different inspirations and I met a lot of different types of incredible people, so now when I find myself alone in the studio, I try to express that energy into my paintings. That’s what makes it so unique, my paintings. And so exciting. So right now I’m working on five, six… like 10 paintings at the same time. You know?

AK: That’s a lot.

JonOne: Yeah.

AK: You work on them all simultaneously?

JonOne: Well, some are drawings, right now as we talk. And some of them are going to leave the studio tomorrow. And some of them I’m working on right now. It turns around a lot. I have a really small studio. It’s tiny, tiny, tiny. So I’m bouncing around the place a bit.

AK: That’s interesting. So it sounds like you have to try to have a clear mind, minimize distraction, and that’s when you get the work done.

JonOne: Exactly. You said it pretty good. I have constantly tried to prioritize things and say “that’s not really what’s important”.

JonOne

My Heart Is Fragile

Photo by Bruno Brounch

What’s important is that, like in my studio, there’s no chairs, no chairs, no… No chairs. So nobody can come here and sit down and spend time here because there’s not a chair to sit down on. And I do this purposely because my studio is not a hangout spot. It’s like a laboratory. If you go to a laboratory or a dance company and they’re doing repetitions, it’s just you and the choreographer. And it’s the same thing. It’s just me in front of the painting. So I try to minimize the distractions and create a space where I’m that kid before, that’s bored on Friday nights, and he’s painting in his place, even though he has 10 billion things to do.

AK: And that makes so much sense because your paintings are so high energy.

JonOne: Yeah.

AK: Is that kind of what they’re about?

JonOne: I mean, in a way, yeah, it is. Because it’s about like… I wouldn’t say about that. But I try to live fast paced. I try to live an exciting life, you know, a fulfilling life. So then I try to express that in my canvas; live life to your fullest. So that’s what I’m trying to do.

JonOne

Photo by Gwen Le Bras

AK: Yeah, I think that definitely comes across. You just mentioned that you were jumping around quite a bit– you’re in South Africa, you’re in Bangkok… Is there a specific city or show that you’ve felt particularly passionate about?

JonOne: No, no, not really. I mean, I’m always working on new shows, so I’m always excited for the next show that I’m about to do because I like to see my work evolving. So I think that’s really important about my work; it doesn’t really stay still, it goes all over the place. And that’s what motivates me the most is working on new projects. Like on the third of May, I’m supposed to go to the south of France. And I’m preparing a show that’s going to be… most likely in a year from now. And that show will consist of… doing the show in an abandoned church. And then from there, I’m going to paint a wall– I’ll do a big wall that’s like five stories up. So, I go on the third of May to meet the mayor of the city and things like that. So there’s always an agenda coming up.

AK: That’s really exciting. So you’re always looking towards the next thing?

JonOne: Yeah. But my dream is to do something in the states. Yeah, I would love to do something in the States. I’d like to do a comeback. You know, I never did a show in the States. I would love to do something there.

AK: Yeah, that would be great. I mean, always looking towards the next thing, I feel like that’s why your career as an artist has been such a marathon.

JonOne: Yeah, it has. It’s been a marathon.

Continue to Part 3

Part 3

An Interview with JonOne (Part 2) Read More »

Artist Profile, Interview

An Interview with JonOne (Part 1)

Artist Profile, Interview / Alexandra Kosloski

JonOne

Hours On the Ground

Photo by Bruno Brounch

In part 1 of her 3 part interview with JonOne, Alexandra Kosloski discusses the artist’s early life and influences.

AK: Could you tell me a little bit about your early life in New York?

JonOne: Early life, well… I was actually born in New York so I’m a real New Yorker, you could say. I was born in a hospital called Flowers– I think it’s called Flowers. Doesn’t exist anymore. So I was born in New York in 1963 and I was brought up in Washington Heights, which is like Dominican, Hispanic, Black, all mixed types of people. My parents are originally from the Dominican Republic, so I got that Latino touch in me, which I’m very proud of. And my dad– he was a window trimmer, what he used to do was decorate store windows. And my mother used to have a boutique. It used to be “Perello’s Boutique”. She used to sell Jordache jeans, Sergio Tacchini jeans, Calvin Klein jeans, karate slippers, Weibo pads….

And I went to an all Catholic boys school called Cardinal Hayes in the Bronx. And so you can see from the little bit I’m telling you… we used to go to Coney Island in the summertime– that used to be our St. Tropez. So we used to go to Coney Island in the summertime, my mother used to bring the food from the house. So cute. She used to spend the Saturdays preparing food. And we used to spend our time in Coney Island in the summertime to cool off. I would go to Highbridge Park 175th, I think something like that. Yeah, I grew up like a real New Yorker.

JonOne

The Simple Life

Photo by Bruno Brounch

AK: So it sounds like you’re pretty proud of where you’re from. It seems like your parents have some of that creative and entrepreneurial spirit that you have.

JonOne: Yeah, they definitely do. I mean, my parents were, you know, like immigrants, and when you’re an immigrant, you get the lowest jobs possible. And they had three kids. So they had to do what they had to do to put food on the table. So that’s maybe where I got the drive… the drive to paint. From my parents, you know? Never giving up and trying my best.

AK: Was art something that you had visualized for your future?

JonOne: No, I mean, art came from boredom. What better way to become an artist– because you’re bored and you got no money. What you do when you got no money and you’re bored is you listen to music and you draw. So I would spend Friday nights listening to music and drawing all night long on a table… and then that Friday and Saturday became Sunday, and Sundays became Mondays and Mondays became like… a real passion. From just being bored.

I always encourage kids to take their boredom and use the boredom to do things. Yeah, it’s good to be bored sometimes. So I used my boredom and I painted.

AK: Yeah, the idleness kind of leads to creativity and invention and new ideas.

JonOne: Yeah, I mean, nowadays you got so much distractions. And useless distractions because it doesn’t lead you nowhere. But back then I was very, very lucky that I was able to use my boredom and do something creative with it.

When I was small, there was this film called Fame. “I want to live forever, I want to learn how to fly high”. Instead, it was the school called Juilliard but I wasn’t so talented to go to Juilliard. So there was always this thing in my head, of like dancing, music, art, expressing yourself– if not on the stage, in the streets. And I always had that necessity to want to expose myself. Sometimes people are timid, but I wanted to be known and seen. That was one of my things. So from movies like Fame and things like that, and seeing graffiti in the streets, and being around graffiti writers, and breakdancing, and hip hop and all that stuff. I slowly transitioned to a more personal type of expression, rather than just following the hip hop scene. Art became more personal, I guess.

JonOne

There Is Power In Me

Photo by Bruno Brounch

AK: So you said that you would just start drawing in your bedroom? Could you tell me a little bit more about your early art making practice?

JonOne: Yeah, I mean, I really sucked at painting. I was like, the worst of the worst. I mean, even to this day, I still can’t paint, you know, I mean, something figurative, nor represented, nor graphic… it became too structured for me. And I didn’t feel like I wanted to go through a structured type of expression because it felt like the same sort of oppression I felt in American society– where everything had to be a certain way in order for you to be accepted. So I felt more at ease expressing myself in an abstract form, which the abstract turns into a freestyle, a free style of expressing yourself. And that’s what really interested me, I didn’t want to be fitting into a box anymore than I had to be. You know, like when you paint a figure, it has to be drawn a certain way in order for it to be recognized or things like that. I wanted to be recognized for my uniqueness and my experiences that I was going through, which are very valuable.

And sometimes it was shunned by society, because people looked down at it, they were like, “That’s useless, what you’re doing”, or “That’s bad what you’re doing”. But I was like, yeah, that’s my life. And that’s an experience that’s enriching because you’re not experiencing it. And that’s what makes it unique.

JonOne

Photo by Gwen Le Bras

That’s what makes me unique– is that you’re doing what everybody else is doing, and I’m doing something that nobody’s doing. That uniqueness is what I was trying to express in an abstract form; through colors and movement and poetry and experiences and energy. And I slowly started to apply my experiences– hanging out downtown, and meeting people, and that excitement of New York when you’re young– I started to express it on canvases.

And also, it wasn’t just a joyful type of art that I was expressing. It’s also a revolting, and trying to understand “Who am I in this big city?”. You know how it is in New York. It’s like a big city, but at the same time, you can feel so lonely, and have no friends and not fit in and, you know, and just be invisible in that place.

AK: Yeah, there’s an anonymity. It sounds like you’re describing that in some ways, art and creativity was an escape for you, but simultaneously, it was a way for you to participate in your environment and in the culture. Does it function both ways for you?

JonOne: Yeah, it does. Because in a way, I was sort of like an outsider– an outsider of an outsider, you know? I felt like I was an outcast in the spectacle of this big city, and the only way of escaping was to paint. And that’s what made me happy. And it made me create my own world, and try to figure out “What is the value of this world?”, when I’m doing something in a way that’s so useless. Because who needs art anyway? You know? Who needs it? So little people consume art, or live through art, or need art in the way that I was needing it. So I was really I was an outsider of the outsiders. People would maybe sometimes dip and dab in art, but to me it was a way of breathing and… to live. So how do you bring a value to it? You know, how do you figure it? How do you figure yourself out in this thing? So it was a long process. And it’s a process that’s ongoing every day, too, it never stops.

JonOne

Juice World

Photo by Bruno Brounch

AK: So early on, you’re involved in street art in New York, and then you transition to painting on canvas. Is that correct?

JonOne: Yeah, I mean, it was a really slow transition. I want to say graffiti is what I was doing. I was doing vandalism. I wasn’t doing street art because I wasn’t really painting in the streets. I was painting on trains. And, you know, some people look at it as vandalism or degrading, but to me it was definitely none of that. The trains were my playgrounds. It was a moving gallery. It was a gallery that was in your face all the time. And it was, at the same time, very underground. So that’s what made me so excited, because I was into underground stuff. And yeah, it was my way of existing. So from there, I was very, very lucky to meet artists, and go visit studios, and start to go to museums and meet art dealers and things like that. So that was sort of my way of educating myself.

But today, yes, definitely called “street art”, which I use sometimes. Sometimes I’m a street artist, sometimes I’m an artist in terms of abstract.

JonOne

Things Are Different In Me

Photo by Bruno Brounch

AK: Yeah, you’re a little bit difficult to put in a box.

JonOne: Yeah. Because I’m just so complicated, you know, I’m extremely complicated– I mean, I’ve been doing it for, like, 40 some odd years painting or maybe even more. It’s even hard for me to define myself. I’m always curious, and trying to be curious in things like that. Not settling down yet. No.

Continue to Part 2

Part 2

An Interview with JonOne (Part 1) Read More »

Artist Profile, Interview

How To Buy Art

Editorial / Nemo Librizzi

Terracotta rim fragment of a kylix, 460-450 BCECourtesy of the Met Museum

“I seek not good fortune. I myself am good fortune.”

-Walt Whitman

This may be the smartest advice on art investment you will ever read, and yet there will be no proofs, charts or diagrams. It is extracted from a full life’s experience, itself built on my father’s life’s experience, the wisdom of which he shared readily with anyone who would listen, but especially with me. It’s about collecting art from a love of art and not in order to make money. And while I can’t promise you will make money this way, as that is not the stated intention, I also can’t see how you would fail. Yet in the end, perhaps the greatest rewards are entirely impractical, utterly ineffable, and most enriching. If energy of work and bright ideas are represented by money, the energy of inspired genius and all the best of the human spirit is represented by art, so to trade the former for the latter, we are always getting the best deal.

Maffet Ledger, 1874-81, Courtesy of the Met Museum

I hate to sound like a paradoxical fortune cookie so it’s best to draw from life experience examples. When I was a teenager I thought I was smart. So smart that I knew Picasso sucked, and that anybody who liked Picasso was stupid or brainwashed. Then my father was the middle man on a big Picasso deal and an important Picasso hung in our living room, replacing a particularly joyous Miro I loved seeing daily in passing. Now, this Picasso was so expensive that it was a special kind of ugly. That stripped down Madrid palette: black, white, gray and shitty ochre. Plus all the bells and whistles of distorted facial features. A travesty. I complained when it went up, passed it with a shudder and couldn’t wait for it to be sold, so we could reinstate the Miro, and probably fly to Europe for a celebration of the big sale as was our wont.

After a night of drinking I reclined on the sofa still swaddled in my blanket, eating a bowl of cereal and watching rap videos on MTV. I looked over at the horrible Picasso, back at Public Enemy… and then back at the Picasso. Something happened. A light went on. I can’t explain what occurred psychologically but probably something like a million brain synapses firing at once, and from that point on I could stand toe to toe with John Richardson and debate Picasso. And he was every bit as topical to date as my favorite rappers. I saw.

William Michael Harnett, The Artist’s Letter Rack , 1879, Courtesy of the Met Museum

I was a graffiti artist on the subway scene. Whenever the big guys in this underground movement had an exhibit above ground, Futura, Dondi, Rammellzee or Lee Quinones, everybody in the civilized world showed up. So as a card carrying member of this closed society, I thought of all the zillionaires and movie stars as mere hangers on. But then there came a wave of artists in their own right, very interesting ones, who brought a new kind of synergy to this popular avant garde. Luminaries like Keith Haring, Kenny Scharf, Richard Hambleton, Martin Wong, and David Wojnarowicz. This new wave of innovation was not driven by marketing or PR but– to use Robert Faris Thompson’s specialty term– because it was “cool”.

When Fun Gallery showed Basquiat we all went to the opening. Hands down one of the coolest guys downtown. Neck and neck with Rammellzee. The paintings that still smelled of fresh oil stick were $1,200 or maybe just an even grand. And Dad and I were in that group of New Yorker insiders, with money to spend, yet none of us, nobody… bought one.

Strangely, nowadays collectors only want to buy a Basquiat. It’s seen as safe, as blue chip. A (cringe) status symbol. I even meet people who want to make a million dollars SO they can buy a Basquiat. To buy and live with a Basquiat absolutely has value today, such as if one bought a Picasso or DeKooning, the investment should appreciate, and the art will radiate its riches. But clearly the best time to buy was at that Fun Gallery show. When the work was new, the ideas were raw, the artist was alive, young and hungry, living dangerously and needed the sale. Again, nobody bought one.Basquiat, in the arc of his mayfly short life, enjoyed success. However, we continually fail to recognize and support young artists, specifically, and art as a whole when we are not there to applaud a genius on their debut on the world stage.

Excluding most of the artists present at the Fun Gallery opening, everyone in that room could have afforded a Basquiat or ten, would have helped the world to be a more beautiful place, and oh my– was there a dollar to be made. But even the rich never seem to be rich enough to invest in art where it counts, in that unpredictable liminal phase, where the work is exciting and not yet market proven.

Pere Oller, Mourner, ca. 1417 , Courtesy of the Met Museum

It takes a hero, like that great collector couple. I forget their names, but I watched the documentary- the husband drove a taxi for a living. They loved art and went to all the openings together. They would fall in love with a picture, say a Rauschenberg, and tell the gallery they would pay it off little by little, from paltry wages. In this humble way this enchanted couple cobbled together a world class collection and became fabulously wealthy, but most importantly, lived surrounded by the powerful magnetic field of their passions.

My father left a stint in the military to hang around the Abstract Expressionists, Beat Poets and Be-Bop musicians, and caught the tail end of all that. He was a teenager working in an art supply store when he met Warhol, who was then still in advertising. Andy asked Pops to take a freshly minted soup can for a walk up Madison Avenue to see what he could get for them. It’s mentioned in the diaries later that “Rick Librizzi [dad] sells my prints too cheap”. And dad was never all about the money, but later I think it did affect him when we sat at Christie’s watching works he sold at 30 or 50K skyrocket to Lotto jackpot figures. Either that or his seat was very uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, he rationalized it, recalling that was the year we rented the suite at the Negresco with the sea view like Matisse. After all, Pops was born dirt poor and believed you could never make every dollar, but had to get some life lived while you had the chance. Maybe I’m wandering off topic a bit, but staying rooted in experience is the best way to show, not tell, the many ways collecting art enhances our human experience. And to invest means not just our money, but our energy, power to believe, and generosity in humble open mindedness, so that even dressed in rags we know an angel when we see one.

When I lived with my dad it was only a matter of time before calls came in from museums requesting the loan of some painting he had paid, literally, fifty dollars for, so when I came of age, I made it a point to collect every notable talent at the moment they emerged from the woodshed. True, some artists materialize on the scene, to be lauded as the toast of the town for a season, only to be damned to obscurity afresh by autumn. And if intrinsic value is anything, qualitatively some of my favorite works come from fringe names that may be lost forever to time, like some anonymous Egyptian or Greek hand. But with every crop of promising talents there is generally one, sometimes two, or in a blessed vintage three who keep at it, and keep striking that sweet spot of relevance until they become household names. This is when your head and heart can agree that your time and energy was well spent. The rise of the one artist who establishes a market pays for the lot of investments, and perhaps your own celebratory tour of European capitals on payday.

Nesting Bowl, 460-450 BCE, Courtesy of the Met Museum

Along with the dilettante who brags about a sound investment in secondary market stock, is the novice Art Historian who can downplay Picasso’s importance, perhaps citing some of his horrible personality traits, chats to be enjoyed while waiting in line for a table at the latest celebrity chef eatery, drawn in by glowing reviews heard on a television program. An entire art-world whose stance is anti-innovation, or even anti-Art. Art as a luxury item. But to venture out as a pioneer on the still-cooling volcanic horizons of a new landscape forged by a visionary avant-garde, that is where real thrills are to be had, together with risks.

When Dad was collecting East Village artists and supporting the graffiti movement, Richard Hambleton rose from anonymity, painting his menacing shadow man figures on the abandoned streets to an “overnight” art stardom bypassing the entry level investment phase favored by my father. Dad would buy cheap and sell dear as a rule, but from a distance treasured what Hambleton had contributed to the tradition. Pollock had abandoned representation for the sake of the vital gesture, and then turned around abruptly to shock and offend the art public by returning to the figure. Critic and collector felt betrayed by the ex-abstractionist, and he by them. Hambleton, according to my father, came along to push this lost cause to a solution, applying the Ab-Ex dynamic to all-American classic subject matter.

Guillaume-Benjamin-Amand Duchenne de Boulogne, Grimace, 1854, Courtesy of the Met Museum

Yet a decade later, Richard would approach my father in the park, humbly asking if he might be interested in buying an ass-kicking rodeo painting tied to the back of his old bicycle. By then Hambleton had tumbled from the ivory tower of bohemian royalty, and thus began a friendship that doubled as a symbiotic business partnership. Dad bought as many paintings as he had room for, and sold off the others to friends and collectors. And at some point my own friendship with Richard blossomed into a business alliance. I bought as many as I could hang on my walls, and visited his studio with fashion models, and pot dealers, and anyone I might encounter with means to acquire something beautiful, and with inherent value well beyond the asking price. Everyone who bought at this stage, and supported a distressed genius, was thrilled by this meaningful exchange, only some were later disgruntled when powerful agencies aligned with our family efforts restoring his market where it belonged– disgruntled that we had not effectively convinced them to invest in time.

Although I am no psychic, it did not surprise me to see Hambleton’s prices spike at the end of his life. And it was not a mere question of engineering, either. But when an artist is that authentic, that tied in with history, that unique and innovative, generally it’s merely a question of time before the trade catches up. In the annals there are of course cases like Picasso’s: a staunch purist who never resorted to charlatanism, who seized the reigns of a thriving career at a young age persevering for the next sixty years with nary a hiccup, persisting to this day as gold standard. Or Van Gogh’s, who suffered the torments of the damned in his lifetime without any respite in worldly success, who nevertheless has in time reached the hearts of zillions. And yes, the works have grown to be treasured as priceless. That a Van Gogh painting never was worthless, however unsaleable they may have been during his lifetime, therein lies the question and answer to absolute value in Art. First and foremost we must appraise an artwork for its potency in conveying human feeling. And when it succeeds at that, Art always generates a profit well beyond any financial return, even when it’s not resold.

Keisai Eisen,Winter Landscape, 460-450 BCE, Courtesy of the Met Museum

When I was a teenager Jean Michel Basquiat made me a great drawing, employing his key iconography, and I had it framed and lived with it for many years. When I became a father, I never saw bills come crashing in so quickly, so with regret I brought this sacred relic to an auction house. Whereupon they asked me for the paperwork. It had never occurred to me to have the damn thing pedigreed, and now was made to understand that the board was no longer considering certifications. I was met with disappointment, to find this precious item ripped of its price, but met my fiscal challenge in some other manner. And I continue to live with this spark of genius, that might have easily been traded in for a sack of rice, but continues to inspire and bring joy to my household instead… in that intangible way that poetry can always nourish us where bread fails.

How To Buy Art Read More »

Editorial

Museum of Graffiti Features Layer Cake’s “Versus Project III”

Exhibition / Stefanie Yaegel

When we think of artists, we don’t typically think of dangerous criminals. That is, unless you are a graffiti artist in the eyes of the law. Think property damage, felonies, and even jail time; yeah, now you have entered the high-stakes realm of graffiti. These creative risk-takers willingly partake in what many prosecutors would define as “criminal vandalism” in order to express their imaginations and opinions, typically based in social commentary.

But here’s the million dollar question- is graffiti truly vandalism, or is it a form of art? And where do policymakers and communities draw the line? These contradicting perspectives on graffiti enable some artists to be praised for their creative contributions, while allowing others to rot behind bars for the same form of self-expression.

Today, graffiti is widespread and celebrated by many. It is even used for decoration, design, and merchandising purposes, especially in Wynwood – a popular entertainment district in Miami. Some of the world’s greatest street artists have left their mark on this neighborhood, transforming spray paint and marker pens into distinguished exhibitions of their heart and soul. However, in a society that cannot make up its mind, graffitists continue to endure an uphill battle of strict fines, courtroom proceedings, and even prison sentences in hopes of one day revising the definition of graffiti in the public’s opinion. Sure, these murals may be rebellious and bold in nature, but isn’t art just mimicking life? Graffiti has set ablaze an innovative art movement that has brought more beauty, color, and vitality than ever before to cities and neighborhoods all over the world.

In honor of its significant history, the first ever Museum of Graffiti opened in none other than Wynwood, Miami, with the mission to preserve, celebrate, and educate people on the controversial style. Representing the world’s most talented graffiti artists, the museum offers general admission tickets for touring the contemplative works, at the accessible cost of $16. It also has graffiti classes for adults and drawing classes for children, led by local artists.

Currently on display at Wynwood’s Museum of Graffiti is the revolutionary Versus Project III, spearheaded by the artists Patrick Hartl and Christian “C100” Hundertmark, whose partnership is professionally known as Layer Cake. The project is a series of canvases that the duo started, but here’s where it gets interesting: Layer Cake left the canvases incomplete. The team then shipped their unfinished graffiti projects off to their favorite artists from across the globe to allow them to contribute – including Akue, Raws, Flying Förtress, Various&Gould, Bond Truluv, Thierry Furger/Buffed Paintings, Arnaud Liard, Rocco & his brothers, Hera & MadC.

Now, if this doesn’t sound right to you, that’s probably because the number one rule in the graffiti world is to never paint over someone else’s work. Typically, that is seen as a sign of disrespect for the artist and their message. However, Layer Cake’s Versus Project III takes a different stance completely. The spirit of the exhibition is rooted in collaboration and unspoken communication between the artists.

Without instructions or guidelines, the receiving artists were free to be as imaginative as possible on their collective canvas, combining their distinct styles with the artist’s markings before them. The exhibition maintains a high level of respect for each graffitist as they meticulously work with each other’s paint, merging all different techniques into one chaotically beautiful masterpiece. By layering signatures over one another, the spontaneous hybrid works well to pay tribute to contemporary art and graffiti as it brings the viewer into a dynamic world that embraces the beauty in differences.

From a distance, the Versus Project III is like a live battle for attention and space unfolding before your eyes, as you can almost feel each artist’s inner struggle as they were creating it. However, when you look closer at the canvases, you can see how no work is overshadowed or alone – every style and every color complements its neighbor. The intricate detailing and multitude of niche styles conveys a sense of movement, as if the piece is constantly evolving right in front of you. The final result showcases each artist’s unique perspectives and practices, while also uniting their efforts into an almost living and breathing piece of art.

As if witnessing a fluent conversation unfold through the adjacent approaches, the project implies a sense of unity, respect, and partnership. Explained by Layer Cake in an interview, this was the goal of their project- an exhibition that favors collaboration over competition in all aspects of society. Whether it be in the art world, or in the real world, cooperation is key to progress and harmony, says Layer Cake. And the Versus Project III, by demonstrating the importance of teamwork and trust, works well at encouraging this colossal theme for audiences to remember long after the exhibition is over.

It is through monumental installations like these that showcase the benefits of graffiti in modern society. Whether it be an inspiring mural on the side of a local business, or a joint-artist canvas hanging up in a gallery, spray paint never fails to make a powerful statement, urging social and political progress toward a brighter future. Does that sound like criminal activity to you? Well hey, you don’t have to take my word for it. Explore creative neighborhoods near you or check out the Layer Cake exhibition at the Museum of Graffiti to decide for yourself whether graffiti should be criminalized or celebrated.

Museum of Graffiti Features Layer Cake’s “Versus Project III” Read More »

Exhibition

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 5)

Artist Profile, Exhibition / Nathalie Martin

John Newsom, Dense Armor, 2008-09. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

Combining realistic representations of animals and vegetation, Abstract Expressionism, and hard-edge geometry, John Newsom’s paintings explore our intricate and complicated relationship with nature. I spoke with John about his origins, his practice, and his upcoming exhibitions – a mid-career retrospective at the Oklahoma Contemporary Museum and a two-person show with Raymond Pettibon in Palm Beach.

Continued from Part 4

PART 4

Nathalie Martin: So I was talking to my friend, a young painter who’s in the studio all day and has an incredible work ethic. But he’s always so hung up about originality or making the most original thing. And I always tell him that maybe originality isn’t the goal. Maybe you’re working towards a certain goal or idea and then your voice or that originality just comes, almost like a symptom or byproduct of whatever you’re working towards. Just not being so fixated with making the most “original” thing. You mentioned Morandi – people have painted cups before. But he makes it totally his own.

John Newsom: Well I would say your friend is looking outside of themselves. What they have to do is turn that vision inward and it’ll be new. It’ll be new because they’ll be discovering themselves for the first time. Everybody, honestly, has a unique spark within them. This is what I’m saying, Nathalie. You got to bring it all in, in, in, but then you’ve got to let it go, go, go. You have to get rid of it all. That’s why you have to learn everything to unlearn everything. If that makes sense. I really mean that. You have to go out there and just learn and take in as much as possible, and then edit it down to get rid of it all. Then you’re going to be at a place that is totally new. You’re going to have an option if you’re a painter in the painting context, because your friend may discover that they can do what they need to do, but they have to do it training dolphins or something. But anyway, I do think that is something that particularly young artists struggle with. I think it’s a healthy thing. You have to be diligent about it. The cream always rises to the top, it always does. So then you go with that, whatever that is, whatever that means. I actually just finished a nine by eighteen-foot canvas that’s going to debut in the museum show in March.

John Newsom, Nature’s Course, 2021-22. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

NM: Your retrospective? Tell me about that.

JN: Yeah, I have a mid-career retrospective, and I’ve been struggling with even saying that phrase because it’s so freaky to say out loud. But I do have a mid-career retrospective opening on March 24th at the new Oklahoma Contemporary Museum, which obviously is very meaningful because that’s the region I’m from, but it also happens to be an extraordinary building and staff. The programming is exceptional. Ed Ruscha just had a full-scale retrospective at the museum, and I’m very honored to be following him. The programming that’s coming up is very, very dynamic and international. This exhibition has been a few years in the planning. We started it

before the pandemic. Fortunately, my dates landed a little bit afterwards. It’s going to be comprised of 31 large-scale paintings from the past 20 years. The majority of works are coming in from private collections all over the United States. We decided to keep the show within national borders at the time because of COVID restrictions and shipping. There were some works abroad I would ideally liked to have brought in, but it’s okay. We were able to get the show to a hundred percent with what we have and it’s going to be outstanding. I’m excited about it. They chose the paintings and I felt like I needed to make one to debut at the show.

I jumped into this painting. I was sitting with a friend of mine, watching a horse race on television. I was talking with my friend about the race because he’s into it, I’m not into it, but it just happened to be on the screen. He said that it was the races at Longchamp. I was like, oh yeah, like the Manet painting, because that was the first time a painter had painted a painting like that, from the perspective of seeing the racers and the horses directly coming right at you. Until then the scene was always presented from the side. So that sparked an idea in my mind. Now I’ve got the title. The title of the exhibition at the museum is Nature’s Course, which I feel I just

walked the entirety of in the last hour talking to you, which is amazing. It’s a herd of five charging bison with a flock of eagles soaring above this open sky. It’s the great Mid-western Plains.

NM: I was just going to say, there’s the Kansas and Oklahoma coming back right back in.

JN: Yeah, exactly. But Nathalie, there’s no way I would have thought I would be painting this painting five years ago, ten years ago, twenty, thirty years ago. How insane? But it might be my strongest painting to date. We’ll see. I mean, a few people that have seen previews of it, I’ve been really pleased with the reaction. So I’m very excited about this. It’s going to open on March 24th and run through August 15th.

NM: So the show is called Nature’s Course. Obviously, your work deals with our complex relationship with nature. And I think you have this visual language or this mark-making style that kind of exists between abstraction and figuration, or soft and fierce, or the beautiful and the terrifying or menacing. Are these binaries representations of how you view this relationship?

JN: Yeah, there’s definitely a duality in the work. But I just feel like it needs to be there because it’s got to be there. The language is such that it incorporates a wide variety of applique and thought, but there are parameters on that. Meaning there are specifications to it. You know, there are rules, for lack of a better word. That’s not to say that you can’t break the rules. It’s just to acknowledge that there are rules and those are for the most part of my own making at this point,

because it goes back to early on. You try to learn and get on something more organic, you just got to figure out what’s working and what’s not working. Where the energy is right. You go in the direction of the good energy. Even if it’s a painting that is made during a challenging period of one’s life. The tableau of the canvas can absorb the hit of any energy that you bring to it. That’s the magic of it. It’s just kind of a tremendous thing. And then it exists in the painting, it

becomes manifested. So whatever it is, if it’s a Goya painting of a certain theme, you can see

where his energy was. It’s now transferred into the canvas – it’s in the picture. When I say you get good energy, I mean that you worked through whatever energy it is and then you hopefully will feel better. This is about healing. I think ultimately great painting is about healing. Whether it’s yourself or the viewer – and it’s really important to note that a painting doesn’t exist unless it’s got eyes in front of it.

John Newsom, Harvest, 2011-16. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

NM: I always say this!

JN: This is really interesting because I don’t paint the human figure, I paint an allegorical representation of the human figure. The physical reality of a human figure doesn’t appear in my work. It appears through the observer of the work. I’m very conscious of that. The viewer completes the picture. Because if they’re not there, the painting doesn’t exist. It’s like if the tree falls in the forest, does it make a sound? It’s a little existential, but it makes sense. So when people say, “Oh, why don’t you paint the figure?” I’m like, “You’re the figure, you’re right there!”

But to get back to the questions, I paint in allegorical terms. There are kind of two ways to read one of my paintings. One is in the literal sense, of whatever flora and fauna or expression of manner you may find within the painting, and then the other is what’s its meaning, what’s its allegory, what’s its allusion. What is it alluding to? Then that gets interesting. It gets complex. Sometimes I make that definition a little bit more reachable, but sometimes I put it out of reach because I want to give people a mystery. That’s something that I think is really important and I think is missing in a lot of today’s art. Everybody is so engaged in meaning, or getting this or that point across. It’s like, I don’t need to know! And so what I want to do is give you both. You can get this or that, or you can leave it there. It doesn’t matter. You know what I mean?

So Nature’s Course is the idea that it’s going to be what it’s going to be. And that’s what it is. You take your time with the paintings because you have to sit with paintings. People are scrolling through Instagram and their attention spans are like goldfish, just like boom, boom,

gone. Painting is the opposite of Instagram. You have to sit with a painting and you have to read it like a book, but it’s visual, you know.

NM: I think learning how to see a painting is really like learning how to read again.

JN: You just said it, learning how to see again. It’s just a different process. Myself and others have had the potential to fall in love with that process, you know, and I’m certainly in love with that process.

NM: So you have a two-person exhibition with Raymond Pettibon coming up as well, opening March 15th at County Gallery in Palm Beach. How does that differ from the retrospective or the idea of Nature’s Course? Does it differ?

JN: I’m very excited about that. Yeah, well, the title of, and the theme of that exhibition, is the five classical elements: fire, air, water, earth, and aether. So Raymond and I each made five new works for the show. There will be 10 pieces in all – my five versions of the classical elements and Raymond’s five versions of the classical elements. I’m really excited about it because just thematically speaking, it’s such a tried and true iconography of art. It goes back to the beginning of it all and everything in between. It was a fascinating project to work on. Having it open simultaneously with the museum show is just perfect. Raymond and I formed a friendship over the bond between our two sons. Our sons are good friends, so it was through them that we started our friendship and discussions and I really just admire Raymond. But you know what? It was through nature’s course itself – through the boys playing around, swimming, making little films, and going on excursions like Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer. Those two are just like dynamite. It’s just great.

John Newsom in his studio, 2022.

Photo Credit: Jonathan Mannion

COUNTY is a young gallery, a very good gallery in Palm Beach. They approached me and Raymond with the idea of doing the show and we had some really healthy discussions, landed on this and I couldn’t be more pleased with how the process has unfolded and the staff at COUNTY. I’m really looking forward to both exhibitions.

NM: That’s incredible, it sounds seamless. So what keeps you painting? What inspires you?

Is it your family? Is it this internal drive? Is it outside influences?

JN: Well, it’s all of the above and more, you know, at this point – you know what, it goes back to the beginning, it’s just the same, Nathalie. It’s just that life itself brings to it what it needs to be. You know, whether it’s something I feel, observe, or experience, I put it into the paintings. And this goes back again to the idea of generosity. I want to serve up a very full meal. I want to make it a big plentiful meal, and I’m just always cooking.

NM: Always in the kitchen.

JN: I’m always in the kitchen, yes, I’m always in the kitchen. You find me in the studio or with my kids, that’s it. That’s my world.

NM: And they’re the same, probably, as far as the return you’re getting.

JN: Yeah, but you know what, that brings us back to the very beginning of our conversation, even before we hopped on the recording. I used to be incredibly social when I was younger. I was out at a thousand openings. I never slept, I was working, I was going to parties. It was exhausting. Just exhausting. It was amazing. I’m glad I lived through it, to be honest, now I’m eight years sober, I’m a sober guy. And life is golden. I don’t regret anything. But I’m glad I lived through it to get to where I am now because it’s really good right now. It wasn’t always about this balance. It was like being tied to the mast heading out to rough seas, but I learned a lot and I have a lot to be thankful for.

NM: I think that directly relates to how you work and your practice. You’re gonna go where you go or shit’s going to come from you and happen to you, but you just got to work through it. You constantly have to work through it, whether it’s painting or life –

JN: Thus, nature’s course.

NM: Nature’s course. Exactly.

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 5) Read More »

Artist Profile, Exhibition

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 3)

Artist Profile, Exhibition / Nathalie Martin

John Newsom in his studio, 2022.

Photo Credit: Jonathan Mannion

Continued from Part 2

PART 2

Nathalie Martin: It’s also interesting that your first encounter with art was through Rauschenberg and Warhol and kind of all the guys that sought to “break the rules,” then going to school and studying the rules yourself, is a really unique way to get into it or to get into the history.

John Newsom: Yeah, definitely. Definitely, because there’s a generation in between. If you look at it really by decades and things, there was a generation in between there that was such an incredible, momentous time for painting in the eighties. So the Pop Art that I was really looking at, it came earlier, when we were moving out of Abstract Expressionism into Pop. Like real early Pop into middle Pop. That was a really interesting period, but it was also a very popular period. So that’s why I was able to get access to it in rural Oklahoma because I couldn’t get to some of the things that were happening in the European context, or even the Far East, which I eventually made it to. I studied abroad and lived in Kyoto. I was in Yokohama, Osaka, Tokyo, and then I was down in Mexico City for a while, around San Miguel and Palenque. So I traveled a lot. I was very interested in broadening my knowledge. I wanted to get the knowledge. And so it wasn’t exclusively linear like with the New York context. But for me, it’s always been about the journey.

John Newsom, The Bright Side, 2017. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

I’ve done a lot of exhibitions in Los Angeles. I’ve had good experiences in LA. I’ve always been based in New York and coming up I never had the dream of going to Los Angeles. I always knew I wanted to get to New York and it’s a different place to paint here. It’s just a little different than it is in LA. And it’s not to make a value judgment. It’s just to say that it’s a different type of context to be painting in. I think that’s benefited my particular type of work again because of the tactility of the surface. That’s kind of a uniquely New York historical way of approaching the canvas. If you look at my work, for the most part, the works are rather large in scale and they’re also very tactical. They’re tough, they’re heavy, and they’re physical paintings. So I always found it kind of a nice juxtaposition when I would go to Los Angeles and see friends and artists out there and shows where it became about light and space. It was all about light and space and atmosphere and it was amazing. It was a trip, but then I get back here and it was like we’re back in this earthen realm of the physical, up-in-your grill surface structures. I love that because I feel like paintings are made as much as they are painted. I mean, there’s the idea of the mark.

NM: I agree and see that in your own work.

JN: There’s a certain attribute about mark-making in New York that is different than anywhere else, and I love it. That’s why I continue to be encouraged by the energy of it. I was talking with the painter Ed Moses about this one time, and he was an interesting painter because although he was in Los Angeles, he was a very physical type of painter. His surfaces were very physically driven. So if he had stayed in New York, he would’ve had a very different history. And if a painter like Brice Marden had gone to Los Angeles, with his type of work, those Cold Mountain paintings would have a totally different feel to them. I just think it’s interesting to really take note of the context of where it is you are painting in a landscape. Corot was painting in a certain landscape, Turner was painting in a certain landscape, Van Gogh too, and it’s just all this kind of stuff. So it’s really fascinating. I am so blessed and grateful to be able to have the opportunity to get up every day and go to the studio and do what I do.

NM: Where is your studio?

JN: My studio right now is located at Mana Contemporary. So I’m actually in Jersey City. But my studio was in Soho previously for twenty years. That was the right amount of time to be in Soho. I’m glad I was in Soho when it was like that. Especially in the nineties, because coming into Soho in 92, we got the backwash of what was there, but there was enough. From 92 to 95, it was still jamming. There were still unbelievable, pivotal types of presentations happening with exhibitions there and these artists and it was amazing. It was amazing. Things shifted, which is okay.

John Newsom in his studio, 2022.

Photo Credit: Jonathan Mannion

NM: As they do.

JN: Yeah, the city doesn’t go anywhere, you just get offered different options, but being there at that time was just incredible to come in on that period, you know? So listen, every generation comes in on their own time.

NM: That’s what I tell myself at least.

JN: Yeah, for sure. So I was planning a move of studios and my wife and I found out we were pregnant with our first child and we had been living in Soho prior to having kids. So we moved to Brooklyn and we live in Park Slope. I decided to move my studio, and through a chain of associations I was offered to take a look at the current space, and I built it out. I really like it. I’ve been at the current studio maybe six, seven years, something like that. It’s a long commute, but I’m glad I have it. I walk, I take the trains. I love living in a walking city. As a painter, I love it. That’s another reason why I could never be in LA. There was an apartment I had access to for four years through the gallery I was with in LA and I’d stay there and I’d either get a car or have a driver or some way to get around, but I never really drove. You get to run into people here. You want to have experiences. You feel a part of the city, you feel closer to it. So I walk, I take the trains. I don’t go to the gym, but I go to the studio. It helps you a little bit. But it’s all good. Everything’s good. Everything’s in a real good space. So yeah, totally. I’m happy.

NM: Good. I want to talk about your influences too. Your fauna definitely reminds me of Audubon and your backdrops remind me of Pollock or Mitchell, and your flora reminds me of Kahlo even.

JN: Well, I love all those artists you’re mentioning. It’s really important to do two things. It’s really important to address your influences, to work with and through your influences. You have to do that, but you have to literally work through your influences until it’s digested fully and it’s yours now.

John Newsom, Keep Watch, 2020. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

NM: Absolutely, so you’re not just regurgitating.

JN: You have to do that. I mean, the Greats study the Greats in order to be great. You have to do that in anything, in music, sports, entertainment, in writing. Again, because I kind of started out early, I got to go through a lot, and quickly. I gathered a lot, I went through a lot. When I say a lot, it wasn’t like I was looking at a dozen artists. I was looking at hundreds of artists. Really, hundreds of artists, trying to see what it was all about. And there are many, many false starts. You’re not going to hit it out of the park every time. There’s going to be a lot of strikes, and you have to embrace it. Sometimes it’s like, “This is interesting, but it’s kind of a dead-end,” and so now I’m going to go over here and, “Oh, wow, this is happening.” But you have to keep an open mind, always have to keep an open mind. You never know where it’s going to come from, where that spark is going to be. So you’re mentioning artists like Audubon to Joan Mitchell, which is interesting. Who the hell is thinking of that together? You know what I mean? You make an interesting point because it’s like, “I want it all.” Going back to Rauschenberg, when you look at Skyway, it’s like he was cramming everything he could into every square inch of that painting. That’s what I love about Rauschenberg and certain other artists that I’ll get into – the level of generosity. I just love when I walk into a show, wherever it is, I’m like, “Oh, wow. Whoa.” You know, it’s just, “Oh my God, look at this!” So if I’m flipping through Artforum or whatever, I see an announcement for an exhibition by a certain artist, then it’s like, “Oh shit! I can’t wait to see this!”

NM: Me too! And when it hits, it hits.

JN: Oh man, when it delivers? Because it might not deliver. But when it delivers, you know, it’s like watching Pacino in a film or something…. and it delivers! You walk in and you’re like, “Wow, this is it!” It didn’t happen overnight. Paintings don’t make themselves. You’ve got to get up, get your coffee, get in the studio, grind, flow – however it gets done – and you have to paint every day. This reminds me of a quote by Alex Katz that I’ve always loved. I really admire Alex Katz. He’s amazing. And he said, “Go to the studio, paint 10 hours a day every day for 10 years, and then come see me.” And that’s just such a pretentious, badass, New York quote. That’s just awesome. So that’s what I did. I painted 10 hours a day for 10 years. And then I went to see him. He gave me a drawing of his wife Ada reclining on the beach, and my wife has it hanging in our bedroom and it’s signed: To John, Love Alex. So I took his advice and if you’re a painter like that, I’m giving you Alex Katz’s advice, because it was really good advice. Just get in there and grind, and that’s really it. You’re also going to find out a lot about yourself and if you’re cut out for this, because not everybody is built for this nor should they be. It’s just following your own bliss, figuring out what that means, and what’s that about.

John Newsom, Solstice, 2016. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

So I can get into influences. Certainly, there have been many, many, many, and I gotta tell you, it’s at a point now where it’s become self-referential in the work. And that’s a strange thing to say. It’s not completely self-referential, but it’s to the degree that… like, the Jasper Johns show just closed at the Whitney, and it’s been a very busy time for me and I didn’t get to see it.

NM: What! No way.

JN: No, no, no, but it’s fine. I’m not stressed about not seeing it because I’ve seen other Johns’ shows. He’s a great painter, but I’m at the point where I can’t see anything right now because I’ve got to be on my shit. But it hasn’t always been like that. There was a point earlier where I would have made sure to see a show like that because I needed to see it. Or I had to see it or whatever, but you know what, I’ve seen iterations of it. I hope I’m getting this across because it’s an exciting place to be at. It’s like, wow, I finally have so much on my plate with my own painting that I actually can’t go see this stuff, but it’s okay. Because I know it, I know what it is. I’ve really enjoyed sharing these stories with you because it’s a time to look back. It’s a time to take a moment of self-reflection and to look back and to take stock and see what things have happened, what paintings exist now that are particularly important and strong in my own lineage, and then see where I’m going with it. Then I’ll have a period that opens up where I can exhale and go see something, and then you see what happens. It’s interesting, things that you would have never imagined you would’ve been into at a certain period, you’re obsessed with, you know what I mean?

NM: Totally. Some of my favorite painters now are artists I originally didn’t understand or like.

JN: And then vice versa, you know, you’ve got to be like that. You can’t just stay on one thing. If you’re on a type of painting or an artist as an influence, and you’re looking at it and you know it back and forth, it doesn’t mean you have to stay on it forever. You can set it down and you can evolve into other things, knowing that it was there. It is there. But you don’t have to feel obligated to take it with you everywhere. Not that you should either, because the most important thing is to find your own voice as a painter. You have to work through your influences. You look at Velazquez or Caravaggio or late Manet – this is capital “P” Painting, and you have to get through that stuff. You have to go to the Prado and see Spanish painting, you have to see the Louvre and the French painting. You’ve got to do all that stuff. I was told that when I was young, and I’ve been to those places. So you get into a certain moment in your development and then you process it, and it gets better. It just keeps getting better, and you get wiser too, just by doing the work. Because the work leads the way.

Continued in Part 4

PART 4

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 3) Read More »

Artist Profile, Exhibition

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 2)

Artist Profile, Exhibition / Nathalie Martin

John Newsom, Keep Watch, 2020. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

Continued from Part 1

Part 1

JN: I grew up in a very solid family structure and being very close with my family. I have a family now and I just love family. I’m crazy about my family. So a strange thing happened on my 14th birthday. I thought that everybody had forgotten my birthday. Like everybody was playing dumb, they didn’t acknowledge it. And it freaked me out. It was a problem.

I went up to my room and was just kind of sad about it. It was on a Saturday. My Dad came up, and he peeked in and he said, “Hey, you want to drive downtown and get a Coke?” I said okay. And so we drove downtown. It was a beautiful sunny day. It was like a Norman Rockwell painting. We went into this soda stand and got Coke floats. We were talking about baseball and things like that. And then he said, “do you want to take a drive to Oklahoma City?” And I was like, yeah, sure, why not? I mean, that wasn’t totally out of the ordinary, but it was cool that he said that. But still no mention of the birthday.

Downtown Oklahoma City, 1987

So my dad and I drove to Oklahoma City. And at the time – this was before the ages of heightened security and terrorist alerts and all that – you could literally drive up to the tarmac of the landing pad at the airport, which is what we did. There was a small commuter plane waiting for us on the tarmac. I mean, it wasn’t a private jet or anything like that. It was just a small plane, which was cool. My dad looked at me and he said, “Hey, you want to take a plane ride?” Now this had never happened before. This was different. But he got up, we got on the plane and I was excited. I was just thrilled. This was an adventure.

We took off, I didn’t know where we were going. We were up in the air for a little over an hour, I’d say an hour and a half. We started making our descent and I look over and there are buildings around. We’re landing in a city. The plane lands, and we get out and there’s a car waiting for us. Not with a driver or anything fancy. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was everything to me. This was the moment. My dad’s like, “Hey, you want to take a drive and see where we’re at?” It was amazing how he laid this out. So we get in the car and we start looping around and we are in heavy urban traffic and it’s going fast. It’s moving. It’s not stalled. It’s not like being in LA during rush hour. It’s fast-moving and we zoom off the freeway and I’m just wide-eyed looking out the window. The car stops. I look over at my dad and he puts his arm around me. He looks at me and he goes, “Happy Birthday.” Oh my God. And I look out the window and it says the Dallas Museum of Art. I blew open the door. There was a sidewalk, a long sidewalk between the car and the front door. And I just started running down the sidewalk, and there’s this giant leaning wall of steel on the left side of the sidewalk. And later in life, I would tell Richard Serra this story – I literally did that, Nathalie. I told him this story. I actually got him to smile. It was its own achievement, but that’s for another time.

NM: I’m smiling just hearing this.

JN: Yeah, man. But I didn’t know what it was at the time. I had no idea. All I could do was read the sign, Dallas Museum of Art. I run to the door. I walk in and I didn’t need to do check-in right away or any of that stuff – again, I was just 14 that day. So my dad was going to handle it. Because – because – installed right in front of me on the main wall was Robert Rauschenberg’s largest Combine Painting, Skyway, from 1964. And I just had an epiphany. John F. Kennedy was pointing down at me and I just saw my life flash before my eyes. I heard the calling. I was like, I’m going to be a painter. For real, for real, I’m going to go all the way with this, whatever that means.

Robert Rauschenberg, Skyway, 1964. Credit: Dallas Museum of Art

NM: Yeah, you flipped the switch.

JN: I really didn’t know what that meant, but I knew that it was happening. I knew this is what I wanted to do. So that was real, the real root of it. We had a great time. My dad came in, bless his heart, he didn’t know what was going on. He didn’t know what he was looking at.

NM: I have the same experience with my dad to this day. He always asks me to explain it to him, what does this mean, what am I looking at, you know, and I’m like, Dad, that’s beside the point.

JN: Right, he didn’t know, but thank God I had supportive, loving parents because they passed it on to me and I support my children like that. That’s a healthy chain of events, so that’s very cool beyond this discussion. So he walked in and he said, can you explain this to me? And I start talking about collage and painting, and there’s a giant Claes Oldenburg rope, anchor sculpture thing that’s extending from the ceiling down to the floor. There was a Jim Dine painting that has collaged tools in it, spray-painted elements, and just all this radical stuff. It was a radical presentation of Pop Art. It wasn’t so smooth. Even the Lichtenstein – it was the painted ceramic female bust. It wasn’t a domestic item. It was romantic, it was interesting, it was great. It was colorful. It was very tactile. I loved it.

But the Rauschenberg was the win for me that day. It really was, and I was kind of veering off the initial discovery of this whole thing via Warhol. I mean, I still love it. I admire it. I never got to meet him, but I hold his work in reverence. But just through self-discovery in life and your own painting practice, you come into your own. So I was, even then, veering away into other things, but I still was hoping to see a piece because I had never seen a Warhol in the flesh. But it wasn’t in the main gallery. So we walked through all this stuff, and before we left, I asked the person at the front desk where the restrooms were. I go to the restrooms, and there in between the restroom doors were two Warhol electric chair paintings. I was like, there they are! There they are. For some reason, they didn’t hang them in the main gallery. But if I hadn’t asked to go to the bathroom, I would’ve never seen the Warhol paintings. So I got to see them. They were really cool because those were some really edgy pieces. The electric chair series is just so intense, and I’ve seen thousands of Warhol paintings since then, but those are some of the best.

Andy Warhol, Electric Chair (Portfolio), 1971. Credit: Dallas Museum of Art

The Dallas Museum of Art is amazing. I saw a Philip Guston retrospective there. It’s a great space. I came back to Enid, the small town where I was from in Oklahoma, and my life would never be the same. I started taking pieces of found wood and plywood panels and I would staple TV dinner trays to the pieces of wood and throw paint all over them and take them into my art class, present them as art, and everyone thought I was crazy. Because that’s what I really wanted to be doing. But on the other hand, I was trying to draw as realistic as possible because that’s what everybody was getting off on. It was like, wow this guy can draw like the wind, it’s amazing, it looks like a photograph – but then I’m doing this crazy, really tactile, abject painting. I was just getting into it, you know, I had all this passion, but not really much direction. I was swirling and I continued to swirl for the next two years, which was good. It was all build up. I was still going to the library in my teenage years and I discovered an area of magazines that they had. I wondered if they had a magazine for art. So I asked the librarian about it and sure enough they carried ARTnews magazine.

I got a copy of ARTnews… and it was a still a little early, maybe late 13, 14 years old. I got back from Dallas and I was like, I gotta keep figuring this out, and we didn’t have Google. So I found ARTnews and I started reading it and I waited and anticipated when the library would get the new issue. I would look at the ads and I would read the reviews and articles and I’d discover artists. That was my junior high school into high school education of art. I knew what the galleries were showing in New York when I was 14, 15 growing up in Oklahoma. And honestly, Nathalie, I couldn’t wait to get there, because we had taken a family trip to New York around that time as well. I told my mother, I said, “this is where I’m going to live.” She was like, oh John, okay, whatever, and I’m like, no – mark my words. I’m going to do this. I’m a Taurus. So once I set my mind to it, it’s happening.

Julian Schnabel on the cover of ARTnews, April 1985

JN: So I found an ad in the back of ARTnews. It was a quarter-page ad for a summer camp called Interlochen in Northern Michigan, outside of Traverse City. It was advertised as a music camp, and I thought that was interesting, but I also read that they had painting. It was music, dance, and painting. It was basically an art preparatory school but a summer camp, and everybody was going to camp, including myself. I’d gone to baseball camp and church camp, but I didn’t want to go to those camps. I wanted to go to art camp. So I asked my parents, I showed them the ad and I said, “Hey, what do you think about this? This sounds really amazing. Can I apply?” Everybody was going to camp, so they were like, “well let’s see.” We looked into it and long story short, I got to go to the summer camp Interlochen.

That was kind of another pivotal point in this process because I just fell in love with it. It was just fantastic because there were instructors there, it was serious. It was life-drawing and still-life drawing and blind contour drawing and printmaking and introduction to woodcutting and intaglio etching. It’s all that stuff, you know, the classics. It was the academy. So while I was there, I discovered that they did offer the academy during the school year. I couldn’t go back home. I thought, how am I going to get to New York if I don’t do this? I don’t know how, but this is part of my journey. So I went, I left in the middle of high school to go to Interlochen Arts Academy. I got in and I worked really hard and I loved it. And it was just everything. It was –

NM: Where you needed to be.

JN: Nathalie, it was just everything. It was just amazing. I dove into art history and the hardcore academics of art-making and the instructors were incredible. They were also interested in regional exhibitions that were happening in places like the Detroit Museum and Cranbrook and we would take trips there. I remember going to the Detroit Museum one time and they had a giant Rosenquist painting. I think maybe it’s where I grew up because I did grow up with a horizontal landscape, whereas my kids are growing up with a vertical landscape because they live in the city. It’s just a different site point, it really is. Day after day you get accustomed to it. So there really was an expansive field to the things, or paintings, physically, that I was attracted to. Just the scale of it. They’re like grand spaces you can walk in. If you get far back enough, it becomes another picture, you get close, it becomes an incredible physical reality. It’s just an amazing thing. So Rosenquist, how he was using aspects of visual collage was really interesting to me, especially the idea of remixing – again, revisiting notions of MTV and early days of Hip Hop. Even like certain types of rhythmic or electric guitars, metal, Kraftwerk, anything, listening to all this stuff. I’m thinking, like –

James Rosenquist, Star Thief, 1980

NM: Thinking what is going on!

JN: Yeah! Thinking that this is our time. This is now, it can’t be like the Italian Renaissance. It’s different, but you got to go and learn all that stuff. You asked me in the beginning about school and things like that. I really felt obligated to go in and learn as much as I could and just figure out the etymology of what it was I was getting involved with. And I love it to this day, I love just sitting down and getting into it like that. Doesn’t have to be about my own work. It can be about ideas of artistic thought and movement and other things. You know what I mean?

NM: Absolutely, I totally agree.

JN: So that was a really great period of work and development for me. And then the time came to leave and I applied to The Rhode Island School of Design and Cooper Union, and I got into both, but I decided to go to The Rhode Island School of Design. I applied there first, I got into Cooper after RISD and I just thought it would be a little buffer before New York, let’s put it that way. Being a late teenager, New York might’ve been a little much, but I knew I was going to be there eventually anyway, so it didn’t matter. So I went to Providence. It’s a gorgeous city. It’s a very, very European city. I felt a little stunted to be honest, the first two years there, and I came very close to transferring to Cooper Union.

NM: And you were in the painting program at RISD?

JN: Yeah, I was in the painting program. I was just ready to get to New York, but I still wanted to be in school. It just wasn’t time yet. But then I started to meet some people. I started to make some real friendships and I stayed there. I didn’t go. I finished at RISD and then I came to New York in 1992. So I’ve been here 30 years now. Then we get into New York itself, but I mean, we just covered a large swath of my history from the beginning to New York. Those are key points, the highlights.

John Newsom in his Spring Street Studio, New York, New York, 1992-93

Continued in Part 3

Part 3

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 2) Read More »

Artist Profile, Exhibition

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 1)

Artist Profile, Exhibition / Nathalie Martin

John Newsom, Beyond the Horizon, 2008-09. Credit: Oklahoma Contemporary Museum

NM: I want to start from the beginning. How did you first get into painting and art history?

JN: I was born in Kansas, in the middle of America, in Hutchinson, which is a town outside of Wichita. I lived there for five years and then my family moved to Dodge City, which is kind of mythologized in the American west as this cowboy town, and Jesse James, etc. – it’s kind of a legendary place. So that kind of was a fun place to grow up from five to ten. During those five years in Dodge, I would go to this place called Boot Hill, which is a famous old Western subsidiary town within Dodge City. They had reenactments of old Western-themed plays, skits, narratives, salon girl dancers, and cowboy shootouts. It was wild. It was like the wild west. But it was an all-American childhood. I really am from that place, those early roots. That’s my foundation. Then at ten, my family moved to Oklahoma, and I spent my formative youth there. I was always painting. I was always drawing. I was just naturally engaged with the process from a very early age. I remember being three, four, and five years old and recalling vivid experiences of the process. It was definitely something more organic than normal. It was just in me. So I came to it very naturally and I just always did that. I mean, I did other things too; I played sports and ran around and did all that kind of stuff, but I was always drawing. I was always painting. That’s the early, early beginnings, the seedlings of how things started.

Dodge City, Kansas, 1878.

NM: Right. So in high school, when you applied to RISD, you knew you wanted to attend art school, and that painting was something you wanted to seriously pursue?

JN: Well, we got to step back a little bit before that. Again, in the context of where I was from, I didn’t have access to museums or galleries. I was growing up in rural America and it wasn’t the urban setting at all. It was just flat planes and a big, open sky. It was interesting, it was through the early days of MTV that sparked my curiosity. Whenever MTV first began, I can’t remember the exact date, but I remember watching it because it was exciting. It was new. Today, the young kids, they’ve got NFTs, they’ve got the metaverse, they’ve got all this stuff. We had MTV. That was what we had.

NM: I wish I had MTV.

JN: Yeah, man, I want my MTV! I remember I was watching MTV and Duran Duran came on the station and they were talking to this very strange person. I thought he was a new rock star because that’s how we were discovering music. And I love music. Music’s had a big influence on me, on my life and my work (and we can get to some of those things. Not to be long-winded about it, but I do have to lay out some of these stories for context). So I was watching Duran Duran interview this artist, and I thought, this guy has to be from London. I’m around 13, I think, when I’m watching this, like, oh man, I can’t wait to hear this guy’s music. And then they said that he was a painter! Then I really was like whoa, what? A painter? No way. I wanted to see his paintings. And it was Andy Warhol.

NM: Wow.

JN: So I was watching this interview with Warhol and I was really interested in his persona and how he was coming across as someone who could get on MTV as a painter. That was it. That was interesting to me because it was usually Duran Duran, ZZ Top, Def Leppard, you know, stuff like that. It wasn’t painting.

Simon Le Bon and Nick Rhodes (Duran Duran) Interviewing Andy Warhol for MTV, 1983

So my mother would drive me and my younger brother to the local library once every other week to check out books. I went to the librarian and I inquired to see if they had any information at all about Andy Warhol. And again, this is Enid, Oklahoma, a town an hour north of Oklahoma City, just south of the Kansas border. The odds of finding any information on Andy Warhol out there were slim to nil. So she came back with a book and it was a new book, a recent anthology on American Pop Art. And they had a little chapter on Warhol. So I checked out the book and I voraciously read it several times and looked at all the pictures, front to back cover. Through that I discovered the world of New York Pop Art – Lichtenstein, Jasper Johns, Robert Rauschenberg, Leo Castelli. I learned the story of the Stable Gallery where Warhol first started exhibiting before he joined Castelli. Leo had picked up Lichtenstein shortly before looking at two early Dick Tracy paintings of Warhol’s – that could get us down a whole other hole.

But anyway, I’m 13, I’m reading all this stuff. Very interested in it, I started drawing images of rock stars and sports figures and artists, things that I’m interested in. I had this kind of double-edge play, this double edge vision at work. One was kind of this Pop vernacular, and the other was just trying to learn the fundamentals of drawing from a more kind of academy style.

But again, where I was, I was restrained, because I didn’t have access to the knowledge, to really get it. And you really need, when you’re drawing, or when you’re doing form like that at any time, whether it’s hockey or painting or golf or whatever, you must have a live physical instructor to show you. You have to figure it out live. You can’t do that kind of knowledge via a book and have it be as effective. So I just kind of paralleled off into my own world.

Continued to Part 2

PART 2

Nature’s Course: An Interview with John Newsom (Part 1) Read More »

Artist Profile, Exhibition