painting – The Trops

Memento Mori

Antonio de Pereda, El Sueño Del Caballero (The Gentleman’s Dream), c. 1650

On the banner: Aeterne pungit, cito volat et occidit “Eternally it stings, swiftly it flies and it kills”

Memento Mori, the latin phrase meaning “reminder of death”, began to occur in medieval art as a visual manifestation of the ephemeral nature of life. While the concept can be traced back to the ancient, it became popular in art with the rise of christianity and its philosophy that life is fleeting, earthly desires are distraction and the salvation of the afterlife is eternal. Past the renaissance and as time went on, memento mori became more secular, and refers generally to the brevity of life and the importance of the present moment.

Typically symbolized by skeletons, candles, hourglasses, decaying objects like wilting flowers or rotting fruit, this imagery represents the passage of time and the certainty of death. These motifs can be noticed in anything across contemporary visual media, such as film or fashion, but were originally embodied in small objects like prayer beads or jewelry, as well as sculpture or painting. In the 16th century, Dutch painters began the production of Vanitas paintings; allegorical still lifes of a collection of symbolic objects indicating morality, often relating to piety and memento mori.

The memento mori challenges the viewer to look closely, to hold the image in their mind without immediately reacting to what may be an unsettling visual. To reflect on the art, the viewer’s own life and ultimate death.

Pieter Claesz, Still Life with a Skull and a Writing Quill, 1628, via the Metropolitan Museum of Art

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art history

An Interview with Vahakn Arslanian

Interview / Alexandra Kosloski

Vahakn Arslanian, Winter of D.C., 2024

Featured in Emerging Movement

Having relocated with his family to New York City as an infant, Vahakn Arslanian is fascinated and inspired by roaring jet engine planes, explosives, luminous light bulbs and flickering candlelight. He has been nearly deaf since birth, his only sense of noise is from that which is thundering to the ears, for him, a glimpse at the vibrational frequency of sound. Along with his fascination with planes comes birds. Where this biomimetic pair have in common, Arslansian mends the two, such as his rough paintings and drawings of plane wings with bird feathers. He takes much of his work and frames them in found objects such as vintage plane windows, often broken and cracked.

In September, Arslanian’s work was featured in the Trops exhibition Emerging Movement in New York City. After the show, Alexandra Kosloski and the painter discuss his artistic inspiration.

Vahakn Arslanian, Light It Up, 2007

Alexandra Kosloski: Your painting in Emerging Movement, “Winter of D.C.”, is made of a cockpit window from an old airplane. Your work often revolves around broken glass and found objects– what first drew you to these materials?

Vahakn Arslanian: I love flying in airplanes from New York to Europe. In 1989, when I was 13 years old, I flew from Belgium to New York on SABENA Boeing 747/-100, and mid-flight I met the pilot in the cockpit. I asked him about the windshield, and he told me about the layers of glass. In 2004, I bought an old Boeing 747 windshield from an airplane repair shop– it was very heavy, about 250 pounds. I broke it with a hammer, then I began removing each layer of glass. When I was 6 years old, I helped Julian Schnabel when he was making his large art in East Hampton. He was throwing ceramic plates, and breaking them with hammers. I find many old windows on the street with antique mouth-blown wavy glass. Sometimes the glass is broken so I solder it back together.

Alexandra Kosloski: Is there a particular artist that you find yourself going back to for inspiration?

Vahakn Arslanian: I am inspired by Dustin Yellin’s paintings, and the technique of cutting pictures from magazines of flowers, or anything on layers of sheets of glass. My favorite artists are Rene Magritte and Salvador Dali. Also, while I walk on the street in NYC, I notice different colors of flowers and I feel like painting.

Vahakn Arslanian, Bird Airplane, 2004

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Interview

Xingzi Gu’s “Pure Heart Hall”

Editorial / Alexandra Kosloski

Installation view of “Pure Heart Hall” by Xingzi Gu at Lubov Gallery

I love when a gallery is in an off-beat, walk-up, possibly residential building. I like when you have to be buzzed in, or make an appointment, or be led by only a small, inconspicuous and un-explaining sign with the name of the gallery on it. It adds a little suspense to your average city gallery day. This was the case for “Pure Heart Hall” by Xingu Gu at Lubov Gallery, running from April 27th- July 13 in Chinatown, NYC.

I usually find new artists and gallery openings because I keep my eye on art in the city. This time, I found an image of a painting by Xingzi Gu online– “Rouge”. I thought it was so beautiful, I loved the way the artist treated the paint. I loved the way the figure was treated. It all felt very fresh to me.

Xingzi Gu, Landline, 2023-24, via Lubov Gallery

The physical quase-inaccessibility of the show lies in discord with the press around it. I was easily able to find more works, and more about the artist, who shared their views on their understanding of the body and its aura, and how that manifests in their paintings. All very interesting. I had such good fortune that there was a recently opened exhibition of the artist’s work near me.

The paintings were in oil and acrylic on canvas, applied thinly, which added luminosity to the paintings and didn’t conceal the delicate pencil and raw canvas underneath. Some paintings were hung and some were on the floor, leaning against the wall. The figures of the paintings were youthful and somewhat ambiguous, surrounded by vaporous auras of color. They had geometric or botanical motifs and the fantastical scenes suggested the spiritual. The narrative feels open ended, which only further draws the viewer into the haze.

Xingzi Gu, Untitled (Ruddy or Ruddy Ice), 2024, via Lubov Gallery

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Editorial

An Interview with David Aaron Greenberg (Part 3)

Interview / Alexandra Kosloski

David Aaron Greenberg in his studio

Photo by Pedro Angel Serrano

David Aaron Greenberg is an artist who uses multiple modes of expression. His work has been exhibited in various New York City galleries and is in the permanent collection at Stanford University. His critical writing has appeared in Parkett, The Fader, Art in America and Whitehot Magazine. Along with producer David Sisko, he co-founded Disco Pusher, a New York City songwriting and recording duo. Greenberg graduated from Rutgers University, Phi Beta Kappa. He lives in New Jersey and sometimes New York City.

In the final installment of their 3 part interview, Alexandra Kosloski and David Aaron Greenberg discuss Road Tripping, his project with The Trops, and the inspiration behind it.

Continued from Part 2

Part 2

AK: How would you describe the local art scene in New Jersey?

David Aaron Greenberg: In Asbury, the literary scene is really vibrant, this “New Jersey Poetry Renaissance” that they call it. The music and the poetry overlap, but not so much with the visuals. It used to be the eighties and nineties artists were in bands, and bands had artists and there was this cross-pollination. And I wish there was more of that.

In terms of the visual, there’s little pockets in New Jersey, it’s very dispersed. You know, there’s real people around me. And I’ve seen young friends of mine that are in Philadelphia, where there’s definitely giant buildings where there’s like 300 other artists, and I would just find that oppressive. I mean, it’s great if you’re young or if you like that, but I don’t want to be around other artists. I want to be around real people. There are people that come into my studio that I meet on the street, literally, and then pose for me. I just recently met a gas attendant at the Wawa, and he came in here. I mean, when they walk in here, their opinion is not some bullshit. They really tell you what they think of your art. They don’t have any preconceived notions. They’re not angling for something.

David Aaron Greenberg

Vibing, 2023

I remember years ago the Italian painter Sandro Chia said, “The greatest way to judge the value of a painting is to just leave it out with the trash and see what happens to it.” Divorced of the context of the gallery or in a museum, if you saw that fucking shit on the street, what would you do? Would you say that’s really interesting or that’s a piece of crap? And I think it’s a really wonderful concept. Like, I sometimes leave my paintings outside to dry, and people ride by and they go, “Oh, that’s really nice.” Leaning up against the wall, drying in the sun outside of the apartment building. You’re not living in the real world if you’re completely surrounded by artists and everything that you do is like: you go to openings, you go to dinner with artists, you vacation with artists and you go to the Hamptons. It’s like you’re living a lifestyle instead of actually making art, right?

AK: You could get out of touch with most viewers.

David Aaron Greenberg: With reality. Just like, dealing with everyday life, the artist is not supposed to be removed from society completely. As Walt Whitman said, he was “one of the roughs”. That’s what made his poetry so great. He was amongst the people. And New Jersey makes you real, no matter what. People do not give a fuck here.

AK: But that’s a really beautiful thing that you were saying. Road Tripping, the project you’re doing with The Trops, you’re not displaying it in a white box, you’re displaying it in the community.

Photo of the artist’s studio

David Aaron Greenberg: Yeah. I’ve talked to the owners of the spaces and had their approval to put it up. So you’re talking with real people that are part of the community that want to encourage art and music and all that. What I really love about The Trops is that it’s very simple, but it’s very revolutionary. It’s like it’s got one foot in the established art world, and it’s got one foot in the real world. And it needs to be in both of those places. And that’s what’s so great about it. To use the technology of apps to to do something that’s not just about making money, but really being part of a community. And there’s a big difference in experiencing something in real time than it is online. I mean, we all love looking at people’s art on Instagram and we love to take videos, but you can’t experience a painting unless you’re standing in front of it. I just recently saw The Cure. I’ve never seen them. And there is something about a live experience, whether it’s music, art, poetry, reading. It’s life, it’s real. I think this young generation right now is relating to that because they lived through COVID. They interact with people and have cravings for real things, real books.

AK: Real connection.

David Aaron Greenberg: You can see real experience. These kids sniff out when they’re being manipulated and being set up.

AK: Can you tell me a little bit of the inspiration behind Road Tripping?

David Aaron Greenberg: I tried to place paintings that seem to somehow relate to the space. It was really easy for the painting in the Scarlet Reserve Room, which is a smoking club. That particular painting I had been painting for a while. I started it on acid. It’s probably the last time I’ll ever do acid because it was just too intense. That was like two years ago. And then the friend of mine– that it was based on– was in the studio, and I said, “Oh, let me pull this out. Remember this experience?” But it was interesting, there was something not right about it. Like, the dimensions were all weird. It was trippy, you know, it was started on acid. And I said, “Let me try to fix this, stand here”. And he’s like, “The only way I can deal with this is if I smoke.” There was something missing in this painting, and he started to light the joint, and I was like “That’s it.” And it became a still life of the actual joint that he rolled. And so, the fact that a painting of mine is in a store arena in an establishment that I totally love, and if it helps promote the place, awesome, because I want this place to thrive. Not only are people smoking weed there, but the atmosphere is amazing. People read poetry and it’s just really relaxing.

Now, The Asbury Park Roastery, that’s a strange little painting. It seems like somebody who needs a cup of coffee.

AK: Yeah, it’s a little moody.

David Aaron Greenberg

Black Eye, 2023

David Aaron Greenberg: Exactly. And Keyport Funhouse, that place is like your older sister’s best friend’s bedroom exploded, and the coolest shit is there. And you’re like, “Wow”. It’s like when you’re young and there’s an older girl and she lets you in her room. It’s a big deal. You’re like, “Wow, this is how girls live?” You know? It’s not a boy’s room. It feels like that when you walk in. It’s a great vibe, and what I put in there is a very small, very beautiful little portrait of the singer Sandflower, who I’ve written with for like ten years now. And I wanted the painting to have the feel of one of those tiny little royal portraits that you see. So it’s the oil is really heavily built up and it’s got tons of varnish on it. And you can sit on a couch and get coffee or homemade lemonade and just lounge in there, and the painting just feels natural. It’s glamorous and beautiful and feminine, and I love it. The other painting I have is in New Brunswick, which is in the George Street Co-op, which is a great place.

AK: I love the George Street Co-op.

David Aaron Greenberg: I don’t remember a time that it wasn’t there. It was such a big deal to actually have a painting in there. I didn’t know if they would agree to it. And the manager was just like, “Yeah, let’s put it up right now”. That one is called “Pop Smoke”. It’s a strange little painting, it kinda looks like the figure is in the smoke. I’ve been going there since I was in high school in the eighties. They have an open mic that they’ve been doing for years in various forms. And it’s a great little thing. It’s a great place to try a new song, for me. It gets you out of your space.

I didn’t make any of these paintings with the idea that they would wind up in these establishments, but the fact that they work in them is really rewarding. At the end of the day, as Stephen Torton says, “We are just all decorators in one form or another”. You know, it’s part of the furniture. And also the notion that they’re not all in one place, that you could literally take a road trip. You can start, let’s say, in New Brunswick and go to Red Bank, then go to Asbury, go to Keyport, come back. That’s awesome, go to the beach, get some coffee, smoke weed. I think it’s cool.

AK: It’s a whole journey. Yeah.

David Aaron Greenberg: It’s a great thing. Ultimately, even if it’s the landscapes that I do, the portraits, they’re all a way to elevate the everyday, every day. People are beautiful. The “road tripping” aspect is pretty funny, too. People travel all around the world and forget about their own backyard. The beauty in the everyday.

An Interview with David Aaron Greenberg (Part 3) Read More »

Interview

An Interview with David Aaron Greenberg (Part 2)

Interview / Alexandra Kosloski

Photo by Daniel Wolfskehl

In part 2 of their 3 part interview, David Aaron Greenberg talks about his memories with his idols and his current endeavors.

Continued from Part 1

Part 1

AK: Is being an artist how you thought it would be?

David Aaron Greenberg: That’s a wild question. Like, “I’m going to grow up someday and be an artist”?

AK: Yeah. Did you have that?

David Aaron Greenberg: I had a strange notion of being a rock star, which I was immediately disillusioned with when I started meeting actual rock stars, and realizing how difficult it is. And then I deliberately did not want to be a rock star.

I think the man who put it over the top for me was Joe Strummer, of all the rock stars I’ve met– and I’ve met Lou Reed, Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, David Bowie, Iggy Pop. Some of these people I had relationships and friendships with. I shared a manager with Iggy, this great guy, Art Collins. And then others like Lou Reed hated me. And I never did anything bad to him. In fact, I tried to be nice to him. Maybe that was my problem. I was talking to his wife, Laurie Anderson, who I adore. She’s so sweet. I used to do meditation practice with her. I don’t know why Lou just didn’t like me. I didn’t hold it against him. I still respected him as a songwriter.

David Aaron Greenberg & Daniel Carter Performance at Eroica Variations

Photo by David Sisko

But the last thing he said to me, I was talking to Laurie in Christie’s during the opening of Allen Ginsberg’s estate sale, and John Ashbery read a poem. It was like a poetry reading. And Allen’s older brother was there and I was talking to him. The cool thing about Allen and me is that his family was very accepting of me. So Eugene, his brother, said, “I feel like I’m at a garage sale right now”. It seemed like a garage sale, but it was at Christie’s. It was very weird. So anyway, I was talking to Laurie about how weird it was and how I just saw a T-shirt that actually was mine. I would do Allen’s laundry and our laundry would be mixed, and I just never took it. And there it was, behind glass. You could bid on it. And I’m like, “Oh, well, I guess I’m not getting that back”. I think I was telling Laurie, there’s my T-shirt, and Lou comes up and goes, “Yo, do you have a cigarette?” And I said, “I don’t smoke.” and he says, “What good are you?”. So that’s the last thing he ever said to me. “What good are you?” He never liked me from the beginning. Consistent, I must say.

The first time that he ever interacted with me was when Laurie was performing with Philip Glass and Allen. Lou sat next to me the whole night and didn’t talk to me, which is fine. We were watching the show. And then at the end I was starving. But Allen kept saying “There’s going to be a dinner afterwards, so save your appetite”. So we’re standing, getting a cab, and Lou’s standing there off to the side and they’re talking. So Allen comes to me, he’s like, “Here, take my harmonium in my bag. There’s miso soup and brown rice in the icebox.” Hello? What about dinner? He said “I’m giving Lou your ticket”. I’m like, okay. I said goodbye to Allen, we kissed. And then I went to say bye to Lou, and he just turned. And I was like, “Motherfucker, I worship you”. I learned how to play guitar by listening to Bob Dylan, and then I learned how to rock out by listening to Lou Reed. Lou was a dick, and I have friends of mine, some of them no longer with us who adored him. There must have been some good in him. I just didn’t happen to ever see it personally.

AK: That was a great story, mostly because I’m interested in knowing what Allen Ginsberg used to eat.

David Aaron Greenberg: Okay, so, this is how I know that Allen cared about me. He left a note– when I was out– that said, “There’s miso soup on the stove without seaweed”, because he knew I hated seaweed. He loved seaweed and I hated seaweed. He made it without, with me in mind. That’s an act of love.

AK: That is an act of love. Food is really a manifestation of love.

David Aaron Greenberg: Right? He underlined “without seaweed”.

AK: Looking at your work, I would guess that the body and the likeness of the body is not the objective. You have such an expressive style, I imagine that you’re trying to get some kind of essence or energy from them

David Aaron Greenberg: You said it better than I do. You just nailed me right there. Yeah. Exactly.

AK: So what are you working on lately?

David Aaron Greenberg

2023

Featured in Eroica Variations

David Aaron Greenberg: Recently I’m working on an interesting– conceptually, it’s interesting because it’s a portrait of Fulano Librizzi, and I’ve been drawing or painting Fulano Librizzi since he was a sonogram. I think the first portrait I did, I couldn’t really get to him until he was maybe four. And even then, he was highly suspect of me at age four. He had good instincts, he knew to keep his distance from me at four. I couldn’t handle him at four. I had to wait. When he was around eight, I think I got a good likeness of him. So, I’m working on a portrait of him called Fulano and Fam, with his mother and father behind him. But that’s taken me forever and ever. Because first of all, he keeps changing, he keeps getting taller. And it’s impossible to keep up with him at this point. I think I have to wait till the last growth spurt. He’ll be 20. Will you please stop growing and changing? So, it’s a conceptual thing.

AK: And you’re featured in The Trops exhibition, Eroica Variations. You have three or four paintings in the show?

David Aaron Greenberg: There’s four because there’s one in the bathroom. Everyone forgets the bathroom painting. The bathroom works really well. I would prefer if someone bought it, that they put it in the bathroom.

Continue to Part 3

Part 3

An Interview with David Aaron Greenberg (Part 2) Read More »

Interview

An Interview with JonOne (Part 3)

Interview / Alexandra Kosloski

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 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