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

“The Rose Period”

Pablo Picasso, Family of Saltimbanques1905, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

Following Picasso’s Blue Period was his contrasting “Rose Period”, characterized by a warm blush color palette, between 1904 and 1906. These paintings had a more French influence, and were inspired by harlequins and circus performers, which Picasso identified with. These works embodied Picasso’s new optimism as a young artist. The Rose Period’s elements and motifs were informative of his later Primitivist and abstract works.

Pablo Picasso, Acrobat’s Family with a Monkey (Famille au Singe), 1905, Göteborgs Konstmuseum

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art history

“The Blue Period”

Pablo Picasso, The Blue Room, 1901, The Phillips Collection

Pablo Picasso’s “Blue Period” refers to the paintings the artist made in his early twenties, following the suicide of his friend, the painter and poet Carles Casagames. The deep blue color palette, and austere subject matter that characterizes this period reflects the artist’s psychological unwellness. In the years of this period, from 1901-1904, the themes of poverty, death, loneliness and portraits of society’s outcasts were considered grotesque, and were very unpopular at the time. 

Pablo Picasso, The Old Guitarist, 1903-1904, The Art Institute Chicago

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art history

Xingzi Gu’s “Pure Heart Hall”

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

February Cinema Circle

Filmmaker, artist, and “high priestess” Judith Dimitria Fleishman shares a 1984 short film created in her early career as an artist in NYC.

At the Trops’ Cinema Circle at ArtxNYC on February 14th.

On this Bohemian Wednesday, taking place on the evening of Valentine’s Day, the Trops screened a series of short films at Cinema Circle in collaboration with ArtxNYC.

The screening included short films by Seth Cameron, James Top, Ethan Minsker, Amos Poe, Luigi Cazzaniga, Nemo Librizzi, Nick Farhi, Judith Dimitria Fleishman, Lola Daehler, Isaiah Barr, Rachel Amodeo and Jamie Nares. The evening opened with a musical performance by Adjua Ajamu.

Top left: “OF” by Luigi Cazzaniga

Top right: Performace by Adjua Ajamu

Bottom left: Post-screening Q&A with Jamie Nares

Bottom right: “Big L Street Renaming” by James Top

Thank you to our local vendors ArtxNYC, Monda, So Lah Tea, and Fruhling for their participation, providing products and refreshments for Cinema Circle viewers to enjoy.

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Event

How To Look At Art: Formal Elements

Utagawa Hiroshige, Autumn Moon on the Tama River, Japanese, ca. 1838, via The Met

Diving deeper into the art, Alexandra Kosloski uses design principles to unpack the language within visual compositions in the “How to Look at Art” series.

Continued from Part 1

Moving past the basics of visual analysis, we can look into the work for the formal elements and the principles of design. The formal elements of art are basic terms we use to communicate visually; line, light, color, shape, pattern, space, and time.

Line

Linear marks made by artistic mediums like paint or pencil are actual lines. Implied lines are not made physically but still can make up the composition– dotted lines that don’t connect, the horizon in a landscape, the pointed hand on the outstretched arm of a figure.

Carmen Herrera, Untitled Estructura (Black), 1966/2016 © Carmen Herrera; Courtesy Lisson Gallery

Notice the vertical actual lines and jagged, horizontal implied line in Herrera’s work.

The direction of lines can indicate meaning. Viewers can draw from their own real world experience. Horizontal lines, like a sleeping body, could indicate rest, peace, or inactivity. Vertical lines may suggest aspirational reaching or standing at attention. Diagonal lines would suggest action, like all the diagonal lines of a runner. Curving lines may suggest movement, or the organic lines of nature. Line quality– if a line is thick or thin, or sketchy or bold– can also convey meaning.

Ogata Korin, Rough Waves, ca. 1704-9, Courtesy Met Museum

“Rough Waves” strives to capture the amorphous tide in ink.

Light and Value

Art may utilize natural and artificial light, like in sculpture or architecture. In 2D art, artists use value to represent shades of light and dark. Artists manipulate light to create form by mimicking shadows and plasticity in 3D objects. Value can also portray emotion. For example, high contrast visuals look dramatic.

Sante D’Orazio, White Beluga Whale at Coney Island Aquarium, 1975

The harsh contrast between light and dark brings intensity to the mood of the photo.

Color

Color consists of three properties. Hue– the state of a color, like red or blue; value– lightness or darkness within a hue; and intensity– the dullness or saturation of a hue. Color can be warm or cool, which affects the viewer’s experience. There is a lot to learn about color theory because color is so subjective. It interacts with its environment and the colors around it, and can be very complex. Color is also largely symbolic, like the colors of a nation’s flag, or red being the color of passion.

Josef Albers, Homage to the Square: With Rays, 1959, © 2016 Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York

The interaction between the colors causes our eye to see them differently.

Texture and Pattern

Texture can be tactile or visual. A marble sculpture of a figure would be physically smooth to the touch, but visually, the artist might represent soft flesh or sinuous muscle. Texture and pattern are related, as pattern may be perceived as texture and vice versa. Pattern is an arrangement of repeated form, and they can be natural, like in leaves and flowers, or geometric, with mathematical shapes and lines.

Egyptian, Leaf Pendant, ca. 1390–1352 B.C., Courtesy Met Museum

The pattern is meant to mimic the appearance of a natural leaf and add texture.

Shapes

Regular shapes are often geometric and identifiable like triangles and squares. Irregular shapes are organic and spontaneous, like a patch of light or a mark made by a paintbrush.

James Turrell, Meeting, 1980-86/2016, at MoMA PS1, Copyright Hugh Pearman

The shapes create the space of the architecture around the viewer.

Space

Artists can portray space in 2D art by employing one of many illusory techniques, like by manipulating vale or scale. A complex technique is by taking advantage of perspective. There are a few methods of perspective, but generally, the artist considers the natural experience of a viewpoint and tries to mimic it– or, as popularized by the cubist movement– defy it. 

Paul Cezanne, Mont Sainte-Victoire, 1902-6, Courtesy Met Museum

The blue mountain seems far away, past the houses.

Time and Motion

Time and motion functions differently across mediums. As we view sculpture, we observe several viewpoints as we move through or around it. Painting and drawing can have an illusion of motion through mark making. Film, dance, and other performance depend on time and motion.

Gian Lorenzo Bernini, Apollo and Daphne, 1622-1625, Photo by Daniel Kelly

“Apollo and Daphne” seems to have a sequence of motion as the viewer moves around the sculpture.

Next, we activate the formal elements by understanding how they make up design principles.

Continue to Part 3

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Editorial

Keeping The Faith, November 2023

Style Writing by Jona Cerwinske at Keeping the Faith

The Trops presents community paintings created live in NYC’s public spaces, representative of the sort of pieces that were done on the walls, streets, and trains that manifested into a global movement. Mark making attached a figurative significance to the individual spirit that guides self-expression in these exhibitive spaces; however, in their original contexts, the art of writing was not necessarily intended as a painting in the western sense of the word. These works, painted by legendary living writers, are contemporary developments of the Style Writing tradition that bring the vitality of the culture into canvas. 

Featuring:

KEO VFR JONA

SOZE RIFF

Keeping The Faith, Video by Avery Walker

The opening reception for Keeping The Faith presented musical performance by Daniel Carter and Ebrima Jassey, as well as a screening by Producer Plug, featuring Big Boo and The 45 King.

Train Writers

Shop our “Train Writers” collection, featuring Style Writers from Keeping The Faith.

Ebrima Jassey (left) and Big Boo (right) at Keeping The Faith, Photos by Adel Saad Abouelalav

Style Writing

Learn more about the Style Writing tradition by visiting our page for the culture.

Style Writing by Soze at Keeping the Faith

Style Writing by KEO at Keeping the Faith

Performance by Daniel Carter and Ebrime Jassey at Keeping the Faith, Style Writing by RIFF

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Exhibition

August Serenade

August 23rd was a very special Bohemian Wednesday, featuring music and poetry at Nublu.

This Bohemian Wednesday, the August Serenade, was located at Nublu in the East Village, NYC, on August 23, 2023. It was the conclusion of the Bohemian summer series presented by The Trops– nights of art, music, poetry and culture.

Featured Performers

Poetry and music by Haleh Liza Gafori & Shahzad Ismalily

Haleh Liza Gafori is a translator, vocalist, poet, and educator born in New York City of Iranian/Persian descent. Gafori aims to transmit the whirling movement and leaping progression of thought and imagery in Rumi’s poems into the music of contemporary American poetry. Gafori believes his words offer liberating and nourishing perspectives vital to our times, inviting us into deeper levels of compassion and generosity.

Shahzad Ismaily was born in the States to Pakistani parents who emigrated here just before his birth. He grew in a bicultural household, always following a multitude of paths and perusals. He is mostly self-taught as a musician, composer, recording engineer, and producer.

Poetry by Judith Fleishman

Judith Dimitria Fleshman (b. 1958) is a visual artist, performer and writer who lives and works in New York City. In 2003, Abaton Book Company published her text/visual collaboration Looking for Maya and her prose has been published by Tema Celeste, Rogue Magazine and the artist zine The Orifice. Fleishman’s work can be found in many private and public collections, such as The Museum of Modern Art, The NYC Public Library, the Gemente Museum Arnhem, Netherlands, and The Ludwig Museum in Cologne, Germany.

Poetry by Anthony Haden Guest

Anthony Haden-Guest is a British-American writer, reporter, cartoonist, art critic, poet, and socialite who lives in New York City and London. He is a frequent contributor to major magazines and has had several books published. 

Music by Mehrnam Rastegari, Martin Shamoonpour, John Murchison

M​ehrnam Rastegari is a well-established Iranian musician and film score composer, singer, violinist, and master Kamancheh player. She has been featured in concerts and music festivals worldwide. Her art reflects her interest in the juxtaposition of cultures. She believes that in current times the most valuable arts are those which most people with different languages can feel connected.

Martin Shamoonpour is an autodidactic multi-instrumentalist, composer, actor, and visual artist from Tehran. He was born in 1984 in an Assyrian family. One of the most important works of Martin Shamoonpour in the field of music is the publication of sermon on the mount, Tehransaranieh, 8 Bit and Ear Magazines.

John Murchison is a Brooklyn-based bassist and multi-instrumentalist. He is known for his active role in several musical circles, performing primarily in pop and musical theater, jazz and avant-garde, and traditional musics from the Middle East and Africa.

Poetry by Leah Elimeliah

Leah Kogen-Elimeliah is a poet, essayist, short story and nonfiction writer from Moscow, currently living in New York City. She is an MFA candidate at City College of New York, the Founder of the WordShedNYC Reading Series and an Editorial Associate for Fiction literary magazine. Her writing focuses on identity, language, sexuality and culture. Leah lives in Manhattan with her husband and their children.

Poetry by David Aaron Greenberg

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.

Music by Sandflower

Brooklyn-based Sandflower is an artist with interests as varied as her sound. Drawing on the contrast of the buttoned-up academia of her private school upbringing against New York’s vibrant music scene, the artist cites everyone from Jimi Hendrix to Cindy Sherman, Salvador Dalí to Allen Ginsberg as inspirations for her own blend of rap-infused pop.

DJ Milo

Milo Carney was born and raised in Clinton Hill, Brooklyn. He graduated from The Cooper Union for the Advancement of Science and Art in May 2010, with a focus on printmaking and sculpture. Milo is currently working as a preschool teacher at The Saint Ann’s School where he attended elementary and high school. He enjoys cooking, modifying clothing and deejaying during ‘free-choice.’ His art questions the effort of one’s own involvement in a cause and examines the futility of caring as well the difficulty of discernment.

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Event
Eroica Variations

EROICA VARIATIONS, July 2023

431 E 6th St, NYC

WED-SAT 12-5pm & by appointment

The Trops takes pride in standing behind emerging artists, whom you may not have heard of- yet- but you should, and likely soon will. By naming this survey after the Beethoven compositions we are putting forth a bold claim that these voices are heroically breaking through as a force to be reckoned with on the world stage.

Featuring:

Ben Ruhe, Nick Farhi, Rene Saheb, Armando Nin, Rawnak Rahman, Vahakn Arslanian,  Jerami Dean Goodwin, David Aaron Greenberg, Conrad de Kwiatkowski

Vahakn Arslanian (b. 1975, Antwerp, Belgium) 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.

Vahakn Arslanian 

Fat Bird

Oil on Canvas 

27 ¾ in x 35 ½ in 

2008 

Armando Nin Born and raised in New York, Armando Nin is a painter, photographer, and mixed media artist. His photography work captures the gritty extremities of his surroundings in the City starting in the mid 2000s into present day, and he often uses unconventional materials in his paintings and prefabrications.


Armando Nin

Coreana Chain No.

Unframed Butane Scorched Marine-grade Vinyl 

24in x 36in 

2022

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.


David Aaron Greenberg

NP 

40in x 30in 

Oil on Canvas

2023

Rawnak Rahman Kantha Collection embodies her personal journey of navigating the delicate balance between upholding and challenging traditional Bangladeshi culture. She aims to disrupt and spark discussions around Bangladeshi traditions.


Rawnak Rahman 

“বু” / “bu”

48” x 48”

Mixed media on wood

2023

Ben Ruhe translates interdimensional beings and textures into his distinct figurative language, integrating soulful whimsicality into his mixed media artworks, 

Ben Ruhe

Untitled (captain)

Acrylic Polymer, Ink and Matte Acrylic Medium on Archival paper

14in x 11in

2023

Jerami Dean Goodwin moved to New York City in 2008. Also known as “STAINO”, his graffiti moniker, Jerami attained global notoriety for his outdoor works, recently painting murals in New York City, Los Angeles, Washington D.C. and Peekskill. Putting Out Fires is a series of paintings representing an exploration of new application processes, such as the use of a fire extinguisher. 

Jerami Dean Goodwin

Untitled #1 (White)

Acrylic on canvas

48 x 60 inches

Rene Saheb was born in Tehran, Iran and frequently engages allegory to comment on the social and philosophical phenomenons of life. Saheb received her Bachelor of Art in Professional Design at Limkokwing University of Creative Technology.

Rene Saheb

The Fallen Birds 1

Discarded Ceramic Pieces, paint and Glaze 

2023

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Exhibition

Bohemian Wednesdays, June 2023

Kanami Kusajima

Photo by Adrian Crispin, 2023

The Trops presents Bohemian Wednesdays as a cross-genre improvisation and cultural exchange existing at the intersection of community and culture. Exhibiting the diverse talents of NYC, this year’s summer series was hosted by Manero’s on Mulberry, featuring music, dance, film, painting, sculpture, and everything in between. Interactive cultural density fuels the spirit of Bohemian Wednesday events, each representing the vibrant celebration of a contemporary view towards Art.

June 14

The first evening of the summer series featured performances by Senegalese musicians Daniel Carter, Thio Afia, Khadim Sene. Carter is an improvisational “free jazz” musician, combining saxophone, flute, clarinet, and trumpet in his performances, while Afia is a vocalist and drummer based in NYC.

June 14, 2023

Photos by Adrian Crispin

Daniel Carter, Thio Afia, Khadim Sene

June 21

The following Bohemian Wednesday included a screening by Charlie Ahearn, performance art by Kanami Kusajima, improvisational jazz by Daniel Carter, and Cuban music by Singo, Jorge Bringas and Daniel Odria.

Charlie Ahearn

Photos by Adrian Crispin

Filmmaker Charlie Ahearn, known for his documentary “Wild Style”, screened a series of Hip Hop short films.

Kanami Kusajima

Photos by Adrian Crispin

Kanami Kusajima is a dancer orignally from Japan who now lives and works in New York City. Kusajima combines dancing and painting in a unique way, using Sumi ink, a traditional mixture made from soot. She drenches her bare hands and feet and dances over a white canvas, regularly performing for the public at Washington Square Park.

Singo, Jorge Bringas and Daniel Odria

Together, Singo, a Pianist specializing in the ” Tumbáo ” method, Jorge Bringas is a musician who plays bass, and percussion and vocalist Daniel Odria formed a Cuban band, with a sound that showcased the rich musical heritage of Cuba.

June 28

The final Bohemian Wednesday in June was a night to remember, featuring music by Daniel Carter and Persian musicians Mehram Rastegari and Mehdi Darvishi. Rastegari plays the Kamancheh and the Violin, and Mehdi Darvishi focuses on percussion. In addition, the event included a screening of short films by celebrated Iranian director Abbas Kiarostami, curated by fellow filmmaker Gabe Klinger.

Photos by Adrian Crispin

The Trops Mobile Application

Bohemian Wednesdays featured the launch of the anticipated The Trops mobile app!
Find and engage with art in the real world!

Bohemian Wednesdays, June 2023 Read More »

Exhibition

An Interview With Barron Claiborne (Part 3)

Barron Claiborne

Rope

2001

Born and raised in Boston, Barron Claiborne moved to New York City in 1989 assisting photography legends such as Richard Avedon, Irving Penn, and Gordon Parks. Nathalie Martin spoke with Barron about what informs his practice, the limits and reaches of photography, and the importance of constantly creating. Claiborne reflects on self-taught mastery and how his extremely honest, critical, yet sensitive eye has landed him in permanent collections all over the world, including the Polaroid Museum Cambridge, the Brooklyn Museum, the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, and MoCADA.

Continued from Part 2

NM: Are you of the opinion that the work needs another set of eyes for it to be finished?

 

Barron Claiborne: I think to a point. Yeah, I think so. I think it’s good to see how other people interpret your work, because usually it’s completely different than you.

 

NM: Do you think the viewer completes the work, or that the work is made, finished, and then shown?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, I think the viewer has their own opinion of the work. It matters what I thought of the work when I was making it. It’s great to hear other people’s opinions. That’s part of being an artist– I don’t mind that. If you hate my work, I don’t care, somebody else likes it. But at least tell me why you hate it. And who are you to criticize me when I’m doing some shit you can’t do?

 

NM: Well, totally.

Barron Claiborne: That’s the problem. When I see dudes doing crazy shit– sometimes I like to watch when people are snowboarding, doing all kinds of crazy shit, jumping out buildings with no parachutes–I’m not interested in doing it. But I still think it’s amazing that they do it. I think it’s amazing. When I see those dudes on snowboards and they’re doing like 720’s and all kinds of shit, that’s just fucking amazing. I’m not interested in doing it, but I would never want them to stop doing it. I would never want somebody to stop them from doing it. Because it’s part of the human spirit. They’re willing to risk it all. Dude, some of that shit is crazy. You see kids doing handstands in a chair on a cliff. I think it’s amazing that they want to challenge their physical body that much, that they’re doing this crazy shit, you know? It’s amazing.

 

NM: Definitely. It’s a form of art.

Barron Claiborne: Right, exactly. I think all that stuff is cool. I don’t think it’s dumb. They’re doing it for a reason. And it also lets you know all the different parts of the human spirit, like what humans are capable of. And that’s what’s amazing about that shit. It just shows you what humans are capable of.

NM: That’s true. Do you like discourse about your work?

 

Barron Claiborne: I don’t really like to talk about it. It’s visual, so what’s the point? That’s how I feel. It’s visual. You should interpret it yourself. It’s better if I don’t give you an interpretation. You can guess, you can make up your own answer, and then I find out shit about my work. You give something back to me.

 

NM: Totally.

 

Barron Claiborne: Other people tell you things that you never saw in it. You’ll be like, “Oh shit, I never thought about that.”

 

NM: So the meaning of your work changes?

 

Barron Claiborne: Sure. To different people.

Barron Claiborne

Long Life with Cigarette (Sierra Leone)

2007

NM: But even to you, I mean. When you hear other people’s discoveries about your work.

 

Barron Claiborne: Over time, yeah. Sometimes I’ll do photos and I never even look at them. And then I’ll look at them like, you know, five years later, and I’ll be like, “Wow, these are fucking nice.” But when I did them, I thought they were only okay. But then you start seeing ones and you’re like, “Oh shit, that’s nice.” Because you were at a different time. You were different then. But a lot of my photos I do now, I did them in childhood, I just have better equipment, and I know the techniques, how to light the camera, so I can do them better than I did when I was 10 or 11.

 

NM: Well, because your work too is aesthetically timeless, I feel like you can come back to it, you can return, and things are changing. Some things might work even better now than they did five years ago.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right. Exactly.

 

NM: How do you prefer your work to be shown? Do you like galleries, museums?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, galleries seem sterile to me. Museums too.

 

NM: I think in the work, the patterns and colors you play around with, shouldn’t be presented in a sterile environment.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I don’t like it. I saw a photo exhibit I really liked in Europe; it was in a castle. The guys’ photos were all in the castle, in the environment of this beautiful museum, and I thought that was pretty cool because it was all different shit. It was fucking weird. I thought that was cool to outfit a whole place with your work. That was different. But yeah, galleries are very sterile. And I was a commercial photographer, so I’m used to fighting with other photographers, bringing in your portfolio– like, yeah, I could go to fucking Yale and then come back big because I can theorize a picture of a chair. I could do that before I went to Yale. But that appeals to authority. People want that stuff because if you went to Yale, you must be better than most people. But in photography, that doesn’t really work.

 

NM: Really? Are you saying that photography is a specific medium you don’t need school or “formal training” for?

 

Barron Claiborne: I guess for some people. I didn’t go to school for that. I mean, nobody stops you from taking pictures, you just buy a camera and you fucking take pictures. And I think sometimes when you don’t know the rules, it’s better. Because when I moved to New York, I didn’t know there were rules, you know?

Barron Claiborne

Bjork With Heart

1998

NM: When you don’t know the rules it’s better? Don’t you think you should know the rules, so you can break them?  

 

Barron Claiborne: No! Because you’ll still be bound by the rules. Even though you think you’re breaking them, you’re still bound by them– as opposed to not knowing the rules at all, so you don’t care. I looked in the magazines that I liked the most, and then I started going to them with my portfolio, but I didn’t have any money. I had a bunch of photos in a photo box, that’s how we used to do it if you were broke. I was teaching kids and then came back to New York, and I had like seven boxes of shit. I was like, “Oh, I got to stop being a teacher and I got to fucking do some shit with this.” So then I printed a bunch of pictures over a couple of months, put them in boxes because I couldn’t afford the book things, and I started bringing them around. 

I went to the New York Times because I always liked it. I was in front of the building, and I looked inside to see the number of the photo editor, and I saw it was Kathy Ryan, and her number was there. I called her, and said, “Hi, my name is Barron, I have a bunch of photos that I’d like to show you.” And she was like, “Yeah, but this isn’t how we do things, you drop it off on Wednesday,” and I’m like, “Look, I’m right underneath you, in the building. I’ll drop it off because I know you must go to lunch,” whatever. And she says okay and tells me to come up. And I went up there and I showed her the box of photos and she gave me a job the next day.

And it was because I didn’t know any better. Everybody else to this day is like, “How the fuck did you get to shoot with the New York Times?” And I just called her from below and no one believes me. They refuse to believe. But I didn’t know the rules, so I was like, fuck it, I’ll call her, her numbers right there. She’s either going to say no, or yes. And she said yes. And I went up there. At the time I looked super young, and she was weirded out by my age when she saw me, but then I showed her the photos and they were beautiful pictures of the kids that I taught photography to at camp. So then she was like, “Wow, these are really beautiful.” And she gave me a job.

 NM: Wow. Just putting yourself out there.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I just didn’t give a fuck, right. Because if I would have known when the right day was to drop my stuff off, or thought they were never going to take me, all this shit– I didn’t give a fuck. And that’s how I got a lot of things. I just went to them.

 

NM: Where did that self-confidence come from?

 

Barron Claiborne: I have no idea. Hungry. I was fucking hungry, dude. When I moved to New York, I would just eat slices of pizza and go buy fucking linguine and make some sauce that lasted a week, you know. I love Italians. I survived on pasta and pizza. When I moved to New York, I used to be so fucking hungry, I’d be walking around with a headache and shit looking for a job. It was crazy.

 

NM: You weren’t getting paid, working for these photographers?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, you got paid, but it was nothing. Back then, I think it was like $25 bucks a day, right? But I didn’t work as an assistant all the time because I wanted to work on my own photography. And then after a while assisting, I was like, fuck this shit. I might as well make a portfolio myself.

 

NM: What triggers that decision to just go for it? 

 

Barron Claiborne: When they start having you do menial tasks, putting quarters in their car meter, shit like that. And they would ask you for your portfolio. That always made me suspicious.

 

NM: When the people you were assisting would ask for your portfolio?

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah. You always have to show them because they would steal motherfuckers’ work.

 

NM: Oh, of course.

 

Barron Claiborne: But you didn’t know that when you were young.

NM: You think they’re just checking up on your work?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, I mean they would act like you’re young and naïve, and it’s like your resume. But they’re looking at your shit to steal it. Because they recognize you have a lot of talent and no one has seen your process, no one’s seen your work.

 

NM: I see this so much on social media with painters.

 

Barron Claiborne: Everyone’s just copying each other’s shit. Everywhere. It’s not even local now, because of social media. So before, I wouldn’t know what people were doing in the art scene in fucking Oklahoma, I didn’t give a fuck. But now you have access to all that. And I think it’s a bad thing.

An Interview With Barron Claiborne (Part 3) Read More »

Exhibition

An Interview with Barron Claiborne (Part 2)

Barron Claiborne

Born and raised in Boston, Barron Claiborne moved to New York City in 1989 assisting photography legends such as Richard Avedon, Irving Penn, and Gordon Parks. Nathalie Martin spoke with Barron about what informs his practice, the limits and reaches of photography, and the importance of constantly creating. Claiborne reflects on self-taught mastery and how his extremely honest, critical, yet sensitive eye has landed him in permanent collections all over the world, including the Polaroid Museum Cambridge, the Brooklyn Museum, the Houston Museum of Fine Arts, and MoCADA.

Continued from Part 1

NM: You use the word “commercial.” Is there a fixed line, for you, between “commercial” and “fine art?” Do you consider everything you make “art”?

 

Barron Claiborne: No. Because when you’re doing jobs for other people, sometimes there are parameters that you’re not interested in. You do it for the money. If you want to pay me $40,000 bucks to shoot a soup can– when I was broke, I’d do it. Why wouldn’t I? It’d be stupid. And it’s the easiest shit. The stuff that pays the most is the easiest. Because it’s all set, you know.

 

NM: So there is a difference. You do categorize your work. 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, yeah. Because you’re working with directors, producers, all these other people, it’s more of a collaborative effort. When I take photos on my own, there is no collaboration other than with the model. Other than that, I have complete control, which is what I like.

 

NM: Totally. So how has your work, process or practice evolved? You know, as you’ve gotten more money, and been able to be more selective with your decisions.

 

Barron Claiborne: You gather stuff. I have a huge archive. But I still love photography. I don’t take pictures every day now. I kind of do the things I want to do. Because you’re also aware that you have an archive that’s going to be there when you’re dead.

 

NM: Yeah, totally. I feel like the more you have behind you, the more your life just becomes your practice, in a way. Or the more your practice becomes your life?

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, yeah. That’s like me making products. I like making products because I have this huge archive, right? I might as well– and the technology allows you to do all this crazy shit, which is really cool. I have a huge archive so I can pretty much do anything.

 

NM: And you were saying you work in cycles, or things happen in waves.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, definitely. Like a while ago during the pandemic, I made a moon, and then I just got all my friends to come and take pictures of them on the moon. Shit like that. I just do shit like that. Little projects– sometimes the project lasts three years, seven years, ten years. Some individuals I’ve been shooting for 20 years.

 

NM: What keeps you working? You mentioned it was just this natural, internal drive.

 

Barron Claiborne: I love people. I think it’s because I love people and I see them, and it’s amazing that everybody looks different. There are billions of people who don’t look alike. It’s fucking weird.

NM: I remember being younger and thinking it’s so crazy we have all the same parts– eyes, ears, noses, whatever– and freaking out about how we all have the same things on our faces but look completely different.

 

Barron Claiborne: I know, it’s amazing. I always wonder why we all look the way we do.

Barron Claiborne, Njuhi as White Powder Ma with Rose, 2007

NM: Do you think there are limits to photography?

 

Barron Claiborne: Ah, of course. People always say photography reveals things, but it also hides things. You can hide a lot in a photo. Also, interpretation. You just see something– you don’t really know what’s happening in the photo. Sometimes you do, but not always. And photos are used to fool people, just like cinematography is used to fool people. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean it’s true.

 

NM: Totally. I also think with photography– even more so than painting or sculpture or anything– you have to be so selective. So intentional with what you’re choosing to show.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yes, exactly. But also, it’s not what’s in it. The thing I like about photography– it’s like three different levels of symbolism. You have the symbolism you can put in it, you also have the symbolism of the art itself– of photography itself– and then you can manipulate it any way you want. You can take pictures to manipulate people. You can take pictures to show people the truth. Just up to the individual.

 

NM: Do you ever want to get into other mediums? Have you ever thought, “Oh, maybe painting or something else will do it for me right now, I should switch over?”

Barron Claiborne: No, no. Sometimes I’ll make my photos into other things. Like now, what a lot of people do, they’re not really making paintings. They’re just making large Photoshop.

 

NM: Right, this “painting without paint” idea.

 

Barron Claiborne: Exactly, you take a photo, right, then you put you in a program, you turn it into a painting, and then you put it on a canvas. And then people think you paint. But it’s the same as a photo.

 

NM: That’s happening a lot right now. I think that’s interesting, the lines between photography and painting being blurred.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, definitely! I mean Warhol made silkscreens. Well, it’s for lazy people.

 

NM: Well…

 

Barron Claiborne: Well, see, if you know photography, that’s one thing, but some people just use it for their other medium. Then I don’t really think of you as a photographer, because no one’s seeing your photography. They’re seeing the painting you made from the photography.

 

NM: That’s kind of cool, using one medium to make another.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, but it’s lazy.

 

NM: I don’t think that comes from laziness.

 

Barron Claiborne: Make a painting. Don’t call yourself a painter.

 

NM: I agree with that, definitely. But also, don’t call yourself a photographer, you’re saying. So what are they? Nothing? Medium-defiers?

 

Barron Claiborne: They’re artists, but it’s just… it makes it easier. A lot of modern art is collages. Because it’s easy. You’re just cutting out other people’s work and then you put it together, but you’re skipping a crucial part. You’re not really creating it. I would rather create everything in the photo.

 

NM: But then found objects, readymades… are not art to you.

 

Barron Claiborne: It’s lazy, that’s not art, it’s bullshit.

 

NM: So what is art?

 

Barron Claiborne: Artists painting, sculpting– 

 

NM: So only plastic arts? Where does it come from, though?

 

Barron Claiborne: I think the person should do it. A lot of art is made by craftsmen. The artist doesn’t make it, doesn’t sculpt it, he just commissions it. Like you’re an art director.

 

NM: Yeah, artists with lots of money, commercial artists. Which is only a handful.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, but it’s still a lot. Why should the biggest artists who don’t make their own shit get credit? Should the craftsmen get credit?

 

NM: Of course, or the 400 assistants that they have in their studio.

 

Barron Claiborne: Exactly, the people actually painting the paintings. My friend used to paint paintings for Damien Hirst. They do the whole paintings.

Barron Claiborne, Old Orleans (After the Deluge), 2007

NM: Maybe art’s not about the individual, it’s about the idea being reified.

 

Barron Claiborne: It’s about everything. I’m not saying art should be anything, it’s whatever it is. All I’m saying, I care a little bit more if you painted the painting, rather than hiring someone else to paint the painting. That’s what’s happening. Artists that aren’t making their own work. It’s not like that didn’t exist. Vermeer and all those guys had 20 interns, just like people do now. When you look at most of the old paintings, tons of them, everybody’s left-handed, because they use the fucking camera obscura to trace. The animals or the monkeys in the painting are left-handed. But they’ll still deny that they used a camera obscura. But most people aren’t left-handed. How the fuck is everybody left-handed in a bunch of paintings?

 

NM: Durer made those engravings showing the camera obscura. Some artists acknowledged it.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, of course. In art school, I mean. Everybody creates their own mythology. So, you know, you look at somebody like Gaugin’s paintings… but his life was fucking miserable as fuck, dude.

NM: He was fucked up.

 

Barron Claiborne: He was fucked up. Spreading diseases and shit.

 

NM: Child brides and all that. 

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, they didn’t like him. He was hated by the French. And after a while, he was hated by the native people also, because, well, he was giving everybody syphilis, but also because he was poor and a crazy dude. It’s crazy. He had a fucking miserable life. Everybody hated him. Yeah, well, the French hated them because he hung out with the native people, and then the native people started hating him when he was spreading fucking venereal disease everywhere. He was ill all the time, he didn’t have food, like it was fucking crazy.

 

NM: We’ve been talking about painters. What’s the job of the photographer?

 

Barron Claiborne: To get the best image possible.

 

NM: Okay, I like that. Is that an objective thing?

 

Barron Claiborne: No, subjective. Each person, subjective to each artist.

 

NM: When you approach your work, when you’re taking a photo, what has to happen for you to be satisfied?

 

Barron Claiborne: I usually want it to be beautiful. Whatever that is to me, that’s the thing. I always want my photos to look timeless, so you don’t know when they were taken.

 

NM: Your photos do look timeless.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, because I really like history. I like the fact that you can’t tell – 

 

NM: It could exist in any time.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right. It could be modern, old.

 

NM: Places, too. Any time or place.

 

Barron Claiborne: Exactly. I like those things, but I really like beauty. More than anything.

 

NM: Me too. I love that you said this, because artists never say this, or are just not being honest. It first needs to be beautiful! I must want to go up to it, right? That’s my first criteria for looking at work.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, right. It’s not for all artists.

 

NM: No, but I love that answer. I think that’s genuinely the most important thing. And it’s not superficial. There’s a science to it, I think.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, sure!

 

NM: Like I think beauty is kind of, maybe, objective.

 

Barron Claiborne: I think if you make a system, you know, you make or do certain things all the time, you can expect certain results. There’s a science to it. And it’s on every level. If there’s a bunch of gardeners and my garden is far more beautiful than theirs, then I’m the master, and they’re the students. It’s on every level. There are scientists doing physics experiments, and there are basketball players that are literally using physics to play basketball. But people don’t think of that. They’re experts on physics, but you just don’t think of it.

 

NM: Yes, but beauty specifically. It’s literally a science. Color theory, for example. These two colors work or don’t work because it’s a science, not because someone decided blue and orange are randomly complementary.

 

Barron Claiborne: Definitely. But then there’s some cultures that will go the opposite.

 

NM: What do you mean?

 

Barron Claiborne: In some cultures, red is a very good color, but then in other cultures they avoid using red at all. You always have both sides. So is it a science?

 

NM: Yeah, if you take out the idea of good and bad, etc. Purple and yellow will always be complementary.

 

Barron Claiborne: Sure, yeah. But it’s so funny that different colors, depending on what culture you come from, mean completely different things.

NM: Absolutely. I was reading this Nabokov interview and he talks about how he sees letters in colors.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh yeah, that’s a thing, what’s it called? Synesthesia, some shit like that?

 

NM: Yes. He said, “N is obviously yellow, and H is obviously green,” stuff like that.

 

Barron Claiborne: Well, just like colorblind people. So now they have these glasses that can correct your color blindness, so people buy them as gifts for colorblind people. You should see the reaction. You know, colorblind people see green as red, shit like that. That’s why they use them in war to spot tanks and shit. Because they don’t see green as green. They see different things so they can spot things that a normal person can’t see. They use them in planes to see enemy tanks and shit. But the thing is, some people smell colors, some people see colors, some people see them as numbers. There are all kinds of weird synesthesia shit. I’ve read a book on that shit. It’s so fucking weird. Some people see letters as colors.

 

NM: Yeah, sounds, even.

 

Barron Claiborne: Everything. There are all different kinds of it.

 

NM: You said growing up, you didn’t really care about credit, or your name being attached to your work.

 

Barron Claiborne: I mean, some of the greatest art in the world, nobody knows who made it. Nobody has any idea. They didn’t sign it. But no, I mean, you care a little bit. Everybody has an ego. When people are telling me they like my photos, of course I like to hear it.

 

NM: I think to be an artist you need a certain amount of ego. You feel you have something to say, to show.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I think so. I mean, you’re making something. The natural thing would be because you want people to see it. Just because people deny it doesn’t mean it’s not true. Because people often say stuff like that, that they don’t care, but you kind of have to. But everybody has a shtick. It doesn’t matter how serious the person is, everyone has their shtick. A lot of artists are just con artists, really.

 

NM: Artists are lying to you and saying it’s the truth.

 

Barron Claiborne: Mm-hmm. That’s right. But you need artists because everybody is kind of one. I’m always shocked at how much photos mean to people when they come up and tell me. It freaks me out when people come and tell me they cry, when they come in and buy a Biggie print from me. They cry and shit like that, I’m like, what the fuck? At first, I used to think it was weird, and now I’m like, well, if it means that much to the person, it must mean something.

NM: Were you just going to say you think everyone’s an artist? Because I don’t.

 

Barron Claiborne: No, I don’t think that. I think you’re an artist at something. I don’t know about everyone.

 

NM: I think there’s a difference between artists and like, “makers,” for lack of a better word. There are people who make things, and there are artists.  

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, but I think those people are also artists. If a guy is a gardener, right, and he makes it look beautiful, he’s an artist. He’s an artist at that.

 

NM: Oh, totally. That’s an artist. Someone who wakes up every day and does that, that’s their practice. Maybe I just mean there’s a difference between “making art,” and being an artist.

 

Barron Claiborne: Right, right. Well, I think everyone has it in them.

 

NM: Yeah… maybe. Maybe they don’t.

 

Barron Claiborne: Well yeah, some people probably don’t. There are some people probably who fucking hate art. You meet people who hate music. I’ve met people who don’t have any music in their house, they don’t have a stereo. I’ve been in houses where people are making millions of dollars. And there’s no stereo, there’s no music in their house anywhere.

 

NM: It’s insane. People also don’t have books. The biggest red flag.

 

Barron Claiborne: Oh, tons of people don’t have books. Or when people have a TV in every single room, including the bathrooms and the kitchen. I was in this guy’s house; he had a television in every single room. And in the garage. In the bathroom. He even had a TV in his kitchen closet that he could pull out and watch in the kitchen. It was fucking weird. And his house was huge. There was a television in every single room. It was fucking weird. I was like, “Wow, dude, you watch TV a lot.”

 

NM: Were your parents strict with TV?

 

Barron Claiborne: Dude, I didn’t give a fuck about TV. I was a kid. We were outside playing football and all kinds of stuff, doing shit that we were supposed to do, running around Boston. The only TV I would watch would be if I woke up on Saturday morning and watched cartoons or like sporting events, the Superbowl and shit like that. Other than that, I don’t give a fuck about TV. We never sat down and watched TV like that. And Americans, when I was a kid, the TV obsession didn’t exist. Americans watched TV, but not like they do now. I mean, it’s insane. But, yeah, give me a break. Americans never even talked about celebrities. I never heard my mother ever say anything about a fucking celebrity in my entire life. You know, they never talked about it. They like the music and shit like that, but they never talked about it. Like they listen to Stevie Wonder. Nobody gave a fuck about what Stevie Wonder was wearing or doing. Nobody cared.

 

NM: Well, I feel like culture has shifted from exclusivity and “you wish you could be like us”–

 

Barron Claiborne: To no one is special.

 

NM: Yes, no one is special, but even “buy this and you can be like me.”

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah. No one’s special. So now you have to act like beauty doesn’t exist. No woman is prettier than the other, they’re all tens… it’s fucking insanity. Basically. You still have value, but everybody’s not physically beautiful. I mean, so what! Everybody’s not smart. Everybody doesn’t care about their clothing. Everybody doesn’t– it’s not like that. It doesn’t matter. Because everybody has their own thing. Do your thing and let other people do theirs, unless they’re trying to stop you from doing yours. If they’re not harming you, I don’t give a fuck what you do. You want to have sex with goats? Just don’t fuck my goat.

 

NM: I guess that’s one way to put it.

 

Barron Claiborne: You know, fuck your own goat! There are things people do all the time that I don’t like. But who am I to judge other people?

 

NM: I think that’s the biggest lesson I’ve learned… that once you start to judge, it means you don’t understand. You’ve lost the ability to really think about something.

 

Barron Claiborne: Yeah, I agree. I think the worst thing is to judge people. I think now, the way things are, it’s like people believe that constantly judging is performing a public service or some shit. They act like they’re spiritual, but then all you’re doing is constantly talking about how you’re better than the other people. What the fuck is that shit? And that’s what a lot of it is. This “justified” criticism. But then as soon as somebody criticizes you, you lose your fucking mind and call them all kinds of names. But you’re doing the exact same thing. And you think your cause is just.

 

NM: It’s funny too because all the criticism isn’t actual criticism. It’s all judgements, like we were saying. I think we could use young art critics. There’s a serious lack of them. You know, people who are thinking. But now we just have everyone spewing out bullshit.

 

Barron Claiborne: Social media, too. It’s brown nosing. You’re just saying whatever. Whatever everyone else is going along with. 

Continue to Part 3

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Interview