Floorr Artist Interviews

Floorr Magazine, an online art publication. Interviews/Directory/Opportunities/Shows.

"the cross section gives the inside an edge. It is a cut and slice to learn and reveal." Could you tell us a bit about yourself? How long have you been a practicing artist and where did you study?I studied my BA at the Slade School of Art in London, then lived in Newcastle after graduating. More recently I completed my MA in Sculpture at the Royal College of Art in London. I’ve been making things for as long as I can remember but considering the possibility of being a practicing artist came while studying, so I would say that I’ve been a practicing artist since then.Your sculptures give the appearance of the body/flesh being constricted or cut/sliced through, could you tell us about these works and the inspiration for them?The thinking and making for these works revolves around edges - architectural edges, body edges, the meeting of edges, the puncture of edges. Edges also relate to the inside and outside of things, skins, messiness and tidiness and when and people’s edges can be interchangeable or porous. In this way, the idea of the edge, to me, defines or outlines where something is – so they’re really about absences and presences through borders. I’m interested in our own edges and this literal or imagined membrane that surrounds us, and other things when these contours shift and morph, or turn inside of themselves.In my sculptures, such as the Gut Feelings works, the cross section gives the inside an edge. It is a cut and slice to learn and reveal. A lot of the time I use architectural drawings or plans to technically work out the larger sculptures, and I have used motifs from these drawings, and the architectural drawings of my Dad, in some past works. I have also recently been looking at a lot of my partner’s medical books where diagrams show our internal workings or methods of fixing to keep us alive longer. Both the architectural drawings and anatomical cross sections are examples of a segment of a thing. They are turning a 3d object into a 2d image, in the same way ancient remains in a museum may be sliced in half and displayed for us to learn from, and to prove its authenticity.For my recent work Wrot (shown at BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art) the slice was significant within the entire installation. The work on the whole acknowledges this idea of surfaces and peripheries but I used the cut in a literal sense to slice through the architecture. The cross-sectional layers also referenced archaeology and burial, so all of the objects contained within the layers existed on the flat plane of the cross section - as if they were held within the flatness of the surface. The making is very tied to this, as the works are formed by pouring materials into moulds, so this invisible surface is a trace of this process too, a previous supporting skin that has been removed. Wrot,2017 at BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art (c) Mark Pinder Nasothek, 2017 (c) Alastair Philip Wiper Nasothek (detail), 2017 (c) Alastair Philip Wiper Wrot,2017 at BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art (c) Mark Pinder Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?My routine is completely dependent on what I am working on at the time, and what that entails. Due to the larger scale of most my works, things are usually made in parts, so I would work on one specific section at a time. A day in the studio can be small tests and drawings, reading and research or it can be hectic pouring or sanding or chopping or pasting. I seem to always work in ways that teeter on the edge of my capability in terms of scale or quantity which is a physical challenge but also a thrill. These sorts of out-of-control processes are at odds with the more reflective studio intervals, where small objects and details are made, and where I draw up spaces on computer programs to attempt to grasp the quality and scale of it. There is a real yo-yoing of macro and micro happening quite physically and mentally.The studio itself is a hectic collection of moulds and frameworks, chunks of materials and tests, as well as finished works and their corresponding smaller details. Currently I have a wall of jesmonite noses protruding at different heights as company. They were modelled on family members and inspired by the Nasothek collection of plaster noses in the Glyptoteket museum in Copenhagen, which stood opposite the museum where I exhibited the works.What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?Philip Guston’s paintings have always felt very significant to me, but recently seeing some of his drawings from the 1970’s had a real gut impact. I think to make simple lines so chunky and weighty while being both hysterical and sinister in their current relevance is incredible.Where has your work been headed more recently?Recently I have been thinking about agglomerates and aggregates, barriers, cartoon violence, metal cracks, potholes, big foot, mud, digging and swallowed objects. The work titled ‘Flatbone’ that was part of Wrot at the Baltic feels in line with some my current thoughts, considering positive and negative forms and stacks that are bolted and cut. For this work I had been thinking about materials and flatness - things weathering or being ground down into different shapes by things like the sea, air or humans. The work originated from seeing some medieval ice skates made from cow bones that were found in the London Crossrail dig. This idea of human ingenuity and the impressions we leave. Nasothek, 2017 Lithic, 2017 Wrot,2017 at BALTIC Centre for Contemporary Art (c) Mark Pinder How do you go about naming your work?Titles are very important. When discussing my work, I tend to talk about the material processes and back-to-front techniques that happen in order to create the sculptures, but the final results are usually cleaner cut than their backsides or hidden hollows. Considering this and the somewhat sugary appearance of the work, I would hope that the titles add a bit of a muckier side to the work, usually referencing really specific terms, actions or things that tie directly to my research.Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about?I will be making a work for ‘The Box’ at Pippy Houldsworth gallery in London, and a larger body of work that will be shown in Berlin later in the year, as well as a public commission in London next year.www.hollyhendry.com All images courtesy of the artistInterview published 01/06/17

"I’m in the studio almost every day, and usually begin the day with two to three hours of thinking, almost as if I’m finding or retracing my way back into a painting.." You were recently in a group show called "Part II: The Turning World" Curated by Zavier Ellis at CHARLIE SMITH LONDON. Could you tell us about that show?The show was a three-person show about contemporary landscape painting and included Barry Thompson, Sam Douglas and myself obviously. Zavier Ellis, the Director of Charlie Smith Gallery, came to my studio a while back, just for a nose I think, and I have a vague idea that, although landscape is just one genre I use, (constitutes about a quarter of what I make), the show may have evolved as a result of a conversation we had about a group of landscapes that I had made or that were on the go, something about a tension between a fiction and a realism dichotomy - finding ‘a realism’ through ‘a fiction’. I think Zavier expanded and layered this idea and curated the whole thing, and presented three painters that occupy three very different and distinct positions with regard to landscape painting, and for me, the show did aim to constitute something of a tension between fiction and realism.Could you tell us a bit about yourself? How long have you been a practising artist and where did you study?I studied at Kingston University in the mid eighties and have been painting since then. I’ve also worked as a curator, mainly for independent project spaces, and I have written about painting. I founded Turps Banana with Marcus Harvey in 2005 (although I left three years ago), and I also founded the painting gallery The Lion and Lamb (which closed three years ago). "Part II: The Turning World", CHARLIE SMITH LONDON 2017 The Hand Glider, 2017 The Passage, 2012 'milo's muzzle' 2011 Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?I’m in the studio almost every day, and usually begin the day with two to three hours of thinking, almost as if I’m finding or retracing my way back into a painting or paintings. I usually make a body of work of between twelve to twenty paintings simultaneously. Some paintings might be finished or close to being finished and they will influence or define ideas about other paintings that are in progress, which in turn will suggest new paintings. Some days I’ll paint for seven to eleven hours straight without a break, other days I’ll make drawings or just sit and think for hours – it really depends on the developing consciousness of the work.My studio is at Standpoint Studios in Hoxton, London and I’ve been there for seventeen years. Standpoint, in my opinion, is quite a unique set-up in the sense that it is well run, everyone just gets on with their work, but there is also a lot of humour and friendship. The top sections of my studio walls are covered with drawings that serve the development of ideas for paintings. I have a ‘main’ wall on which I hang the paintings that ‘I’m painting’ and the rest of the paintings that are on the go are hung on other walls as if they are waiting their turn for attention. The scale of paintings varies from twelve inches to six-foot stretchers - in my opinion scale is dictated by content. There are a lot of books in the studio, some on work surfaces, others on the studio floor along with loads of notebooks, sketchbooks of drawings, more drawings and block prints. 'the pot' 2011 'in that large book that overhangs the earth' 2016 'the pragmatic smokeman' 2016 What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?For me, resonance is really about what contributes to and extends your thinking at a given time, and in that sense, I look at a lot of painting from many different periods. More specifically though, in terms of what or who I constantly go back to and think about I’d have to say medieval illuminated manuscript paintings, the northern and southern renaissance painters (particularly Breugel and Titian), Degas, Monet, early Cubism (particularly Braque), the late Andre Derain paintings and some of Guston’s paintings. I did see a Neo Rauch show a while back which I thought was disappointing, and the recent Paul Nash retrospective, which I thought was one of the best shows I’ve seen for a while. With regards to particular works that resonate with me, I have to single out Hunters in the Snow by Breugel, The Death of Acteon by Titian and The Painter’s Family by Andre Derain.Where has your work been headed more recently?I finished a group of fifty-three paintings about eighteen months ago that took me five or six years to complete. Although most of them have been in shows over the years it has been important to me to see the group as an entirety, almost as if that group defines my range and intellectual and emotional structure. My objectification of what that group of paintings is about propelled me into a new group of paintings that feeds off the collapse of a long-term relationship and the death of my dog Milo last year, and they in turn refer, on an abstract level, to thoughts about the content and pictorial significance of Breugel’s Hunters in the Snow. "Part II: The Turning World", CHARLIE SMITH LONDON 2017 "Part II: The Turning World", CHARLIE SMITH LONDON 2017 How do you go about naming your work?Naming paintings is very important to me. I constantly remind myself of a quote from Shakespeare, “and gives to airy nothingness a local habitation and a name”. Objectification is always in play. All the titles of the paintings that were in The Turning World show refer to what is depicted, to ‘ the language of the painting’ and to words that might be used to describe a painting, such as The Passage, The Edge, The Field or The Hand Glider. The Passage emphasizes the light and space in the picture. The ‘painting’ in The Hand Glider implies ‘a gliding’ across the surface of the painting and the picture plane, almost as if the picture is suspended ‘within the surface’.Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about?Yes, a solo show in October at Emma Hill’s gallery, and The Eagle Gallery in Clerkenwell, London. charliesmithlondon.comAll images courtesy of the artist and CHARLIE SMITH LONDONInterview published 01/06/17

"My work is very auto-biographical. I’m a loud, exuberant, emotional and probably exhausting character, and my work will always reflect this." Could you tell us a bit about yourself. How long have you been a practising artist and where did you study?I left high school and quite quickly the band I was playing with took off, allowing us to play music together for quite a few years. As all of that came to an end I was left with a bit of a hole in my life. Painting and being creative has always been an intrinsic part of growing up in my family household so applying to study painting at a higher level seemed like a good route to go down. I studied Fine Art Painting, BA at Wimbledon College of Art, graduating in 2015. It was a great school, filled with some brilliant tutors and funny people. The fact that I started when I was twenty-four worked in my benefit, I had already spent some time away from home and had already had my social awakening, meaning I was in the studio most of the time. I was also very aware of how great it was to have a studio and resources readily available, and didn’t want to waste any of that time (or money). After completing my degree Stevie (my wife) and I moved to Antwerp for greener and cheaper pastures, painting there for a year after which we then came to be in Suffolk. I’m now soon to be thirty and would say that I’ve been thinking about art as a focus for fifteen years now! You were recently in a group show called "Dumb" Curated by Kristian Day. Could you tell us about that show?It was a great show, filled with heavy hitters. Some painters which I have been looking at and up to for a while so it was an honour to be hanging in there. It happened at Mercer Chance which is a brilliant non-profit in Hoxton, run by artists for artists. The show was called “Dumb” which is a word that one of the the other exhibitors, Paul Housley has been playing with in different connotations in relation to painting. In certain examples the word “dumb” is used to describe base materials such as paint and canvas which need to be activated by the intelligence of the artist. I can get on with this. He’s a good painter who I can identify with in terms of his obvious love of Picasso and Guston. Shit, that Robert Rush painting in the show was a knock-out too! Probably quite an obvious choice for me though. Repo Man, 2017 Bright White Electric Feel, 2016 Pollen, 2017 Your paintings often feature strange/comical figures, could you tell us about these and where your inspiration comes from?My work is very auto-biographical. I’m a loud, exuberant, emotional and probably exhausting character, and my work will always reflect this. Painting has always been a form of self-help for me, or a way to work out any problem solving that life throws up. Funny and sad - sad and funny. After finishing my studies at Wimbledon I watched the movie “Mid-night Cowboy” a bunch of times, Loving everything about it. I started to see parallels between Joe Buck’s (the lead) path and my own - country boy moving to a bright new city (Antwerp), thinking he’s going to crack it, living on a crazy busy street filled with busy, crazy people - soon realising that what was once gold is now dust. I’m a theatrical guy, and really like to throw myself into a role. So once I had made these connections I started to try and live my life as “Joe Buck” as possible. It was all really fun. I’ve put that one to bed after having a solo show which bought together all my ideas and am happy to move on. Right now I’m working on a body of work which is a response and inspired by Drones Club’s new EP. They are old friends of mine so I’m able to talk with them in depth about the ideals that they have in regards to the music they make and what kind of message they want to get across. They are ideas that I’m very much on board with and I’ve found it very rewarding exploring those together with them. We are working on a collaborative show together for the start of June. Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?Stevie and I share a studio at Asylum Studios. It’s set on an old American air base which was abandoned after the Cold War. The old buildings, radio station, bunkers etc. have been filled with a mixture of different and weird businesses. Asylum Studios is where a lot of the police work and intelligence operations happened. In fact, between Stevie’s and mines studio is a partition wall with a one-way mirror window set in. It’s where the Americans would hold their interrogations. In the late eighties there was quite a significant U.F.O sighting - it was our studio where the American air men who saw the U.F.O were bought for questioning. It’s a very atmospheric place, old jet fighter planes are strewn across dis-used runways, radio domes and watch towers spike the horizon. Its very close to our house that we live in on the South East coast. Asylum Studios itself is a co-op run by some brilliant, active and entertaining artists that we now call our friends. Its great to be part of a certain community that makes decisions together and pull each other forward. Having a partner in the same line of work as yourself is such a bonus - Stevie and I both drive each other. There is a constant support net there if ideas are wavering and you don’t have to twist an arm too hard for a crit! Trouble on Turnhoutsebaan, 2016 This House, 2017 Hurricane, 2017 West German Fat Lava, 2016 What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?If you can call The Louisiana in Copenhagen an artwork in itself then that! Just as a building it was beautiful. The lines, the alluring corridors leading to perfectly framed views of the Scandinavian shoreline and the architecture of the gardens. It was incredible. As a museum - just as great. Whilst we were there we caught an ever poignant Louise Bourgeois show - next door, Asger Jorn! But for current resonant work, the John Kröner show at Gallery Bo Bjerggaard that we caught whilst in the city. It was such an excellent example of incorporating the space into the exhibition, right from the windows of the gallery being left open to let the white chiffon curtains billow in the cold, Danish air to raising the floor through the show so it finally meets the ceiling to create the feeling of a wave of doom! The paintings were fresh and a perfect mixture of comic noir, using techniques which I hadn’t thought about before. He is also a painter who I wasn’t previously aware of so it was all the more exciting. Where has your work been headed more recently?I have always had light-play with sculpture, but I think about it more and more. It’s a crazy beast which needs looking at with a whole different eye, which is probably why everything 3-D I’ve made are very much literal reliefs from my paintings. It’s something that I would like to learn more about and be able to use as a vessel for my painting or vice versa.How do you go about naming your work?A lot of the Midnight Cowboy paintings were named after one-liner quotes from the film, sometimes translated into Flemish as I was living in Belgium at the time. There’s a lot of lines in that movie which made me chuckle. This most recent body of work I’m making I have named after the song titles from Drones Club’s EP. My work, is figurative, honest and brutal - the titles should reflect that. Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about?I’m working with an artist I really love, Jonathan DeDecker, towards a solo show of mine which will be curated by him in an brand new space in China Town, New York. The show will be large scale works on paper which is something I’ve never done before but I’m up for the challenge and feel comfortable in Jonathan’s hands. I’ve worked with him before and trust him. For me the idea alone of China Town excites me enough. It’s totally romantic. www.thomtrojanowski.comwww.kristianday.co.ukAll images courtesy of the artistInterview published 01/06/17

"Geometry allows me the freedom to channel a myriad of different material. It removes the potential chaos of having too many subject options, yet remains open to sensory or poetic influence." Could you tell us a bit about yourself. How long have you been a practising artist and where did you study?I live and work in London and have been a practising artist since 1981 when I completed my MA in Painting at Chelsea School of Art. Prior to that I’d been a BA student at Cardiff College of Art from 1974 to 1978. I knew I wanted to be an artist from an early age… I never had any doubts about going to art school and was quickly drawn towards painting and non-figurative art.Could you tell us about these repeating geometric forms you create, would you say you are quite obsessed with certain shapes?Geometry allows me the freedom to channel a myriad of different material. It removes the potential chaos of having too many subject options, yet remains open to sensory or poetic influence. I work with a variety of different geometric formations but it’s true to say I find the circle to be the purest, the most universal of all geometric shapes. I never tire of its associations with art and architecture, with ritual and religion and with the cosmos. I’ve been making circle paintings since the late 1980s and feel sure I will continue to do so for the rest of my life.Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?I always walk to my studio, which takes about half an hour. The walking part is important …it clears my head and leaves me fresh for working. I’m lucky that my route takes me mostly off-road, through London Fields and then along the Regents Canal. My studio is in a beautiful 1930s building, owned and managed by ACME, an artist’s studio and housing association, and I’ve worked there for over 20 years. It has a cohort of about 30 artists and my partner Trevor Sutton works there too. He and I have a close dialogue; we visit one another’s studio every day.I keep the studio tidy and organised… too much disorder interferes with my thought process. I normally work in series, on several paintings at any one time. I start intuitively, by pouring layer upon layer of unstructured liquefied oil paint over the canvas. Adding the meticulous over-painted geometric detail comes later. These combined processes satisfy my need for both chance and order. I try to achieve an atmospheric spatial quality in the grounds so as to create the equivalent of an environmental space in which the geometry can exist. Once the grounds are done, next comes the drawing and then finally the careful over-painting. The colour changes a lot. It’s never achieved in one go, so there’s a discreet physicality in the history of the surface. Pointstar, installation shot, Flowers Gallery Pointstar, installation shot, Flowers Gallery  What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?I’ve just seen Richard Long’s beautiful new installation Earth Sky at Houghton Hall in Norfolk. It’s an impressive experience, seeing his works in the context of formal gardens and parkland and the grand elegance of a Palladian house. His works take simple powerful forms; circles, lines, crosses, made in the most natural way from stone, slate and flint. And here they are made on a huge scale. There is a spectacular red Norfolk carrstone line, 84 metres long and also a giant circle made from fallen estate tree stumps. There are ghostly white pigment cascades poured from the tops of arched loggias on either side of the house and in the central Stone Hall of the house, itself a masterpiece, sits a Richard Long circle, another masterpiece in slate and flint.How do you go about naming your work?The provenance of my titles varies: some works are titled descriptively in numbered sequences, such as the recent Star, Ancestral Lines and Quadrille series. Others may record the place where they were made or an important event in my life, or simply offer poetic names that seem to fit their character. Every work is unique… it deserves a name. It’s important to use titles for identification purposes so I never leave finished works untitled. Quadrille #4, 2017 Quadrille 1, 2016 Quadrille #5, 2017 Where has your work been headed more recently?I’ve been making circle paintings exclusively for several years so I wanted to diversify by introducing very different geometry. By way of contrast I started exploring sharp pointed geometric formations, which, for no particular reason I have rarely used in the past. Firstly I worked with triangular motifs that quickly progressed into zig-zag chevron formations with a strong heraldic feel. Most recently, as variant of both circle and triangle I’ve started painting stars. Like the sun and moon, stars for me evoke the mysteries of the universe and the heavens: they come laden with inspiration drawn from the beauty and infinity of the cosmos.From an early age until I was sixteen I studied classical ballet. I was never going to be a great ballet dancer but I enjoyed doing it. It did however provide me with a developed sense of physical spatial awareness that I use to this day. I’m acutely aware of my physical movements in relationship to painting; how my body is set during the act of painting and how the scale of a work affects this. Composition-wise I’ve always had a sense of spatial order and discipline when it comes to proportion and placement. Chevron paintings like Dance acknowledge this and the Quadrille series is named after the square dance famous for its precise steps and figures.Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about?I have a solo exhibition Pointstar, presently showing in London at Flowers Gallery, until 3 June. It’s the culmination of two years working on star and chevron paintings. Very large oil paintings on canvas are installed side by side with a series of tiny paintings on board.I show more star paintings in Life Lines 27 May- 14 July with Galerie Gisèle Linder in Basel. This is a three-person exhibition with works on paper by Trevor Sutton and burnt line wood pieces by the late Roger Ackling, who was one of our closest friends. The show is dedicated to him.Trevor and I are also working for the first time on a collaborative painting for a show at Cinnabar in San Antonio, Texas in September 2017. Four artist-couples are exhibiting individual works alongside their collaborations. We’ve just started our joint work and it will be interesting to see how well we can combine our imagery and methodologies to make a strong and unified painting.Carol Robertson: Pointstar is on view at Flowers Gallery, London W1 until 3 June.www.flowersgallery.comwww.carolrobertson.netAll images courtesy of Carol Robertson, Flowers Gallery London and New YorkInterview published 01/06/17

"Having been surrounded by industrial objects from a young age, this has influenced my practice, approach to any practical obstacles and experimentation with ‘heavy’ materials." Could you tell us a bit about yourself. How long have you been a practising artist and where did you study?I studied Fine Art Sculpture at Carmarthen School of Art, Wales; specialising in casting, construction and fabrication. There was an emphasis on traditional sculpture techniques and processes which has continued to feed into my practice as a contemporary artist. After graduating in 2014 I was keen to continue developing my practice and took up the artist in residence position in the sculpture department at the school. Over the last few years I’ve exhibited work on an international and national level including most recently at the Venice Art House Gallery; besides this I’ve experienced in depth Iron Casting at Conferences, travelling to Ireland, Latvia and most recently to Sloss Furnaces in Birmingham, Alabama.Last year I completed my MFA after receiving a scholarship to study at Cardiff School of Art & Design; achieving a Distinction. However the year was a challenging experience and I found that my work shifted from previous heavily focused material experimentation and was limited at times due to space and facilities. There’s an organic approach to my practice, I try not to limit or tie myself to a specific discipline; my work currently sits at the intersection between sculpture, installation and performance.Could you tell us about your recent performance piece “Women at Work”? What was the inspiration behind it?The idea behind Women at Work came from previous research into women and industry, and how my own personal experiences of working in a foundry was predominately male dominated. The National Conference on Contemporary Cast Iron Art & Practices became a starting point of contact for female artists who are interested in working collaboratively to explore object (domestic) and action using molten cast iron as the primal material. The focus behind this body of work was to explore material, object and gender; highlighting and questioning the consciousness of stereotypical roles as my research has begun to consider the role of women in sculpture and how female sculptors have formed relationships with material.The performance comprised of a production run pour with a female only crew. We worked specifically with domestic objects such as cake tins, dusters, sieves that were placed on long wooden tables and larger objects, the washing machine and tumble dryer became a focal point. Molten iron was poured in or over the objects becoming exposed and destroyed. The aim of Women at Work was to highlight the intense nature of foundry work, specifically iron casting; emphasising the role of women and questioning the consciousness of stereotypical roles. My experience at Sloss Furnaces evolved into an innovative approach and understanding of iron casting and how I can further engage with performance to explore an international and collaborative dialogue. Gwaith RAMUSEVANS COLLABORATIVE, 2016 Gwaith RAMUSEVANS COLLABORATIVE,2016 (detail) Inorganic Binaries, 2016 Women at Work, 2017 (detail) Women at Work, 2017 What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?I recently visited the Artes Mundi, which was held at the National Museum and Chapter in Cardiff. Neil Beloufa’s piece was a sculptural assemblage of videos as an installation exploring the parody of social interaction through the diverse subjects of extra-terrestrials, nationalism and terrorism. The work was elegantly exhibited, I was particularly drawn to the steel fabricated forms that formed the basis of the video work; the jarring dialogue between three and two dimensional approaches. Another range of works that provoked my practice was Renate Bertlmann’s solo exhibition Höhepunkte (Two Climaxes) at the Richard Saltoun Gallery. Bertlmann’s piece Bru(s)tkasten (Breast incubator), 1984; two moulded clay female breasts (encased in an 'incubator'). Her work confronts the idea of female vulnerability; the knife placed to each nipple expresses female power, and therefore rejecting the breast as a fetish. For me this body of work illustrates a unique sensitivity to material and female tropes.Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?Since leaving education I’ve found it difficult to balance my studio time whilst trying to earn a living. I try to prioritise my time during the evenings and weekends but have no specific routine. I currently share a space in my father’s garage where I have access to tools, machinery and floor space for larger works. Having been surrounded by industrial objects from a young age, this has influenced my practice, approach to any practical obstacles and experimentation with ‘heavy’ materials. At home I have a desk space where I mainly work on my journals for notes, research pointers or brief sketches; I call this my “clean” space. I regularly find myself having to balance work and my ongoing practice as an emerging artist; however I carry my journal on me wherever I go for any quiet breaks during the day to jot down any immediate ideas for future projects and new works.Where has your work been headed more recently?There seems to be two strands to my practice, collaborative and performance based work and how I can revisit previous industrial materials such as plaster and concrete. I don’t want to restrict myself or place my work in a categorized box, I work purely in the moment, time, space, and materials are all key components. Scale has always been a focal quality; previous works are much larger and weighty as I had no limitations with space. I find myself negotiating my practice at times but more recently I have been interested in evolving how the process of my work tends to involve an intensely physical approach. There is an investigation in my recent works where the confrontational and challenging social aspects of gender relations have become apparent through performative actions. How can I expand and mature to progress with future works? Wide Load, 2016 How do you go about naming your work?Personally I feel that titles are an important element of the work, they can provide the audience with a general understanding and context of a piece. My titles usually refer to how materials respond; therefore describing the action or the experience of process. With my most recent works the titles form a basis for further development of a piece as research, for example Women at Work is proposed as a series of future projects that will be re-enacted accordingly. The name is never something I spend time thinking about; it can sometimes become quite daunting when you find yourself starring at the finished work without means to an end. However the naming of work does become part of the process for me and when I finalise a name I begin to fully understand the work.Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about?I’ve recently been accepted as Artist in Residence at Stiwdio Maelor in Corris, Wales, this will begin mid-August; I’ll be working in a large attic studio space for a month allowing me to focus my research and develop new work.I’m currently working on my approach to material experimentation and the aesthetic quality in my practice. My time is also dedicated to finalising a performance proposal for the International Conference on Contemporary Cast Iron Art which will be held in Scranton, Pennsylvania.lisaevansartist.comAll images courtesy of the artistInterview published 01/06/17

"This work and much of my research stems from my interest in the cargo cults Melanesia, a phenomenon of the mythic and scientific, this involved closed societies encountering Western culture and technology for the first time, a biblical event for such uncontacted groups." Could you tell us a bit about yourself. How long have you been a practising artist and where did you study?I’m only 21. So, I’ve not yet graduated from the BA course at Central Saint Martins, I’ll be finished there in a few weeks. Before that I was doing my foundation course at Bath, there I had a great tutor called Dave Hyde, who I think still teaches there. It must be difficult being a tutor during those early stages of an artist’s career, he was very kind and had a great sense of humour, I think a lot of what I do now still comes from the conversations we had together during those early stages. Before that I painted landscapes, and that was where I discovered the joy of making images. When I began studying art at school all my other subjects dropped off, since then I haven't really strayed from that path. Some of your work reminds us of big computer servers and/or control panels from sci-fi movies. Could you tell us about these installations/sculptures?The two works you’re referring to are on display at the Degree Show at the moment. They’re both replicas, or a simulacrum. One, a copy of the chess computer named ‘Deep Blue’ (which also happens to be the title of the work) that beat Chess Grandmaster Garry Kasparov in the 90’s, the other; a hallway from the interior of the Tantive IV ship from the opening scene of the first Star Wars movie. My computer, ‘Deep Blue’, bears an uncanny resemblance to the original machine, it is however dissimilar in that it contains no computational power. The only electronics in the machine are the LEDs that blink sequentially underneath the perforated steel, implying sentience, they appear to be decoding a problem, a display of its thinking power. This is a very literal representation of what is called ‘black box technology’, ‘a usually complicated electronic device whose internal mechanism is usually hidden from or mysterious to the user’. A curious viewer might investigate the back of the sculpture, only to reveal the true nature of the object; this side has been neglected, the dense box is in fact hollow, MDF clad in perforated steel, and the LEDs are in fact christmas lights taped to the inside. This work and much of my research stems from my interest in the cargo cults Melanesia, a phenomenon of the mythic and scientific, this involved closed societies encountering Western culture and technology for the first time, a biblical event for such uncontacted groups. Many of the natives constructed religions surrounding the comparatively god-like technology they encountered. Often they will imitate the behaviour of Westerners; some tribes erect giant wooden radio antennas into the heavens, in an attempt to summon the sacred ‘cargo’, just as their now absent visitors had done in order to receive the resources that the islanders now fetishise and covet. Just as the cargo cult radio antenna and wooden flightless aeroplanes have little hope of transmitting a signal or taking off, my computer gives the illusion that it has the capacity to think, yet it has no ‘internal mechanism’. 'DEEP BLUE' @ Capstan house 2017 'The roach motel' 2017 What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?A few weeks ago I picked up a book from my Mum’s bookshelf called ‘Naives and Visionaries’, most of the artists in the book aren’t too interesting, although one did stand out. Jesse Howard was his name, if you look him up you can learn all about him, he called himself Outlaw Howard. It’s hard to find much on him, but that which I can find is always refreshingly genuine and creative; he decorated his home and garden with hand painted signs, sometimes his own words, often they contained biblical and political references. The neighbours hated him so much they even tried to get him sectioned. This only seemed to spur him on though, they kept giving him a hard time and he kept painting signs, in photos you can see his whole front porch and garden are littered with them. He also renamed his homestead ‘Sorehead Hill’ (a great title for a work). Also, recently I was reading a book on Duchamp and I learnt how he had one door hinged between the studio and the toilet, the result being that you can’t shut the door to the studio without the toilet door being open, and you can’t take a shit without the studio being wide open. This is something I wish I’d done, the art works I really like are those that are done in a single gesture, like this. Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?Well, my studio is currently being used for the degree show, once that’s over it won’t be mine anymore. When it was a functioning studio I shared it with a great group of people; Central Saint Martins attracts unusual and fascinating individuals from all over the world, I only got to know a handful of these people (the course hosts over 150 students, so it’s hard to know everyone), but I hope to stay in touch with all those that I’ve spent time with.Towards the end of the my time at CSM I was in the workshops more than the studio. Anything I wanted to make could be done in this one building. Early on I had considerable help from the technicians when it came building certain things, now I think I’m fairly competent when it comes to translating a drawing or 3D model into a tangible thing. 'The roach motel' (detail) 2017 'The roach motel' (detail) 2017  Where has your work been headed more recently?The arrival of the end of the degree has had an impact on what I’m making, or not making. Recently the kind of decisions I’m making regarding work have become logistical rather than creative. Usually by the time I’ve finished making something I’ve lost interest in that thing, and these works end up being less successful, the few things I’ve made that have continued to provide me with intrigue are the only works I really like. This has become important in itself; the afterlife of a work, what happens once it has materialised and I’ve photographed it and published it, often this feels like drawing a line underneath it, and that’s not good. For example, last year I made a replica of the Odeon Cinema logo, just the first letter though. Formally I thought the letter and font worked as a sculpture, without the ‘DEON’ following that first letter it was uncannily familiar to most people (not Americans though, Odeon doesn’t exist in the states). It was over 2 metres in height, and in photos it gave the impression of being this dense, free standing monolith, the object itself is disappointingly fragile; the two pillars stand on the bottom part of the letter and they support the top arch, I never properly attached them so if you knocked it it would tumble over pretty easily. Like the IBM computer and the Tantive IV wall I’d neglected the back, which was left exposed, revealing the wooden structure inside. I was interested in this idea of the object itself becoming a kind of prop or stand in for the real thing, so I took it outside at night and did a photo shoot with it, the images I got from that became the work, the object itself sat in my backyard, where it lost all of its power. How do you go about naming your work?I once heard Glenn Brown say that naming his paintings allowed him to give a ‘tint’ to the work that it was otherwise lacking. The interviewer pressed him on a painting depicting a portrait of Rembrandt’s son titled ‘Joseph Beuys’, wondering why he’d chosen this title for a work that was so completely the opposite; kitsch and ephemeral, rather than serious, German and political. Glenn explained how this was exactly what the painting was missing, and if he gave it this name it would have everything. I haven’t made enough work to really play around with the titling of them in this way, with ‘Deep Blue’, the computer, it is the complete opposite in fact; the title of this work is the name given to the real computer by the scientists that made it. However, the replica of the Tantive IV interior is titled more ambiguously. The name ‘The Roach Motel’ came from an anecdote I heard about a friend who had brought back an insect killer from America, it was designed to attract bugs and trap and kill them in a small cardboard box disguised as a miniature motel. ‘The Roach Motel’ was the name of product and the tagline was ‘Roaches check in but they don't check out’. I heard this when I had just finished making that piece and I was searching for a name for a work that I’d frankly lost interest in, and this breathed new life into it. View fullsize 'Novum' 2016 View fullsize 'The roach motel' 2017 View fullsize 'Novum' II 2016  Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about? Currently I have an offer to study Sculpture at the RCA, if I can find the funding for that then I’ll be there for two years. Although it’s unlikely I’ll be able to find the money to do this, in which case I’ll stay in London and hopefully try and organise a studio for myself. I’m looking forward to slowing down my process a bit, for the last three years there’s been a lot of pressure to churn out something new every few months, I think this encourages the whole ‘drawing a line’ thing I mentioned. I’d like to think that if I was renting a studio and working to pay for it then anything I made in there would be done singularly and with the most care and attention.Art school does that I think, forces you to condense processes down to fit the curriculum, there are plenty of works that I’ve had to move on from prematurely, before they’ve really had any time to develop or explain themselves. I rely partly on this, post-rationalisation that is. That’s not to say I go into the studio and make whatever I fancy that day then figure it out afterwards, there’s a process that comes before. But when it comes to the actual making of a work, I like that to take place in a different kind of mental state, where everything stays outside. I’d like whatever comes out of this place to have been generated as organically as possible, and that can sometimes be difficult if you have the weight of what you want/expect it to be at the back of your mind, what I want and what it really is, I like the idea of those being two different things. www.nathanielfaulkner.comAll images courtesy of the artistInterview published 01/06/17

"I want the viewer to sense that the work is ephemeral not only because of its precariousness, but also because once it is dismantled, it will go back to being a material that can be presented differently next time." Your sculptures have a playful feel to them, using used/thrown away everyday objects. Could you tell us about these sculptures and the inspiration behind them?Playfulness is definitely a big aspect of my work and it happens in a very spontaneous manner, which is genuine to the way I solve problems in the art making. I do not have a traditional set of skills in constructing or drawing, but I use that in my favor to make the kind of work I do. My sculptures are not fixed in time. Materials are reused, recombined with new ones, or set up in different ways. Each piece I document or show is finished, but only for the duration of that exhibition. I want the viewer to sense that the work is ephemeral not only because of its precariousness, but also because once it is dismantled, it will go back to being a material that can be presented differently next time. I draw inspiration from the everyday things I see in the streets: the way things are placed on the sidewalks, tied up, leaning or piled. Also people, what they wear and carry with them. When I pick up something on the street, I don't necessarily know how or where it will end up in my work. I am drawn to the potential that I see in that material itself, or maybe in conjunction to something else I recall having in the studio. Could you tell us a bit about yourself. How long have you been a practising artist and where did you study?I was born and raised in Chile, where I got a degree in Marketing and Business. After finishing, I decided I wanted to pursue a career as an artist. I could not see myself doing that for life. I slowly changed my path into Art. I took several continuing education classes (some in Chile and some abroad, including Central Saint Martins) In 2010, I moved to the United States to get a Master in Fine Arts. I spent one incredible year at the San Francisco Art Institute, but my true dream was being in New York. Eventually I restarted grad school at the School of Visual Arts, where I graduated in 2013. Installation view of individual exhibition at Cuchifritos Gallery in 2016. New York, NY. Title of the exhibition: “DelanceyLudlowRivingtonNorfolk”. Photo credits: Bill Massey. “Untitled”, 2017. Dimensions variable. Installation at M.E.N. Gallery. New York, NYPhoto credits: Nick De Pirro “Donut-man”, 2015. Group exhibition at Proto Gallery. Hoboken, NJ. What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?I recently saw Samara Golden's work at the Whitney Biennial which was pretty inspiring. I loved how playful that work was! Using simple materials and constructions, choosing the perfect placement and creating infinity with the use of mirrors she was able to create a complex piece that was dislocating and hypnotising at the same time. Where has your work been headed more recently?For several years I worked exclusively with found and ready-made objects that I could gather in my surroundings. Not long ago, I started exploring the incorporation of crafted elements into my work. Mainly with ceramics, works on paper and hand-woven pieces I make out of non traditional weaving materials. My interest in the “making” has increased over time and I am really drawn into this aspect which I believe adds a fresh element to my work. Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?I currently have a studio at The Elizabeth Foundation for the Arts, located close to Times Square in Manhattan. It's pretty crazy to work in the middle of the city! I usually walk or bike there, finding my way between pedestrians, tourists and leftover materials. Getting there everyday is like venturing a jungle, but once I am in the studio, I am able to disconnect from the hectic surroundings. I work in a very fragmented manner, so usually in more than one piece at a time. Because I use materials I find on the sidewalks and get inspiration from the everyday life, I also spend a lot of time outside the studio, going back and forth. My studio has a section where I pile found materials. It can get messy because I tend to keep a lot of stuff, but I always have clean walls and leave empty area so that I can work on pieces individually, without excess of information around them. “Another day in paradise”, 2016. Included at exhibition “DelanceyLudlowRivingtonNorfolk” in Cuchifritos Gallery. “Weave done it”, 2016. Included in group exhibition “Improbable”, at LVL3 Gallery, Chicago. “Gripped”, 2017. Included at solo exhibition “Part is no Object”, at Soho20 Gallery. Brooklyn, NY. How do you go about naming your work?I usually work on titles when the work is finished, and only think about titling when I have to include a piece in a show. I like titles that have some humour, play of words or double meaning and that are somehow open ended, since my work does not have a specific narrative. One of my closest friends, artist David Jacobs, is of great help. We usually brainstorm back and forth, playing with words. Since English is not my first language, I always learn something new and funny in this process. Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us aboutI am spending a lot of time working in ceramics, in preparation for a show next year at Proto Gallery in Hoboken, New Jersey. The ceramic objects I make are roughly inspired by the found, but at the same time, represent appealing objects that one would not actually be able to encounter in the real world. These ceramics will be combined with found objects to make sculptures that intensify the idea of transforming the discarded and unwanted into something oddly desirable. I have also started making a new series of weavings that retain the same element of playfulness as my past work, but focuses as much on childlike representational drawing techniques as it does on the abstract. www.denisetreizman.comAll images courtesy of the artistInterview published 01/06/17

"Making art functions as piecemeal psychoanalysis for me. My work, however, transcends the personal. Through each work I create, I learn a little more about human vulnerability in relation to the outside world." Could you tell us a bit about yourself. How long have you been a practising artist and where did you study?I’m Vincent CY Chen, I was born and raised in Taiwan. I moved to New York City to study fine art at the School of Visual Arts in 2011. Since the graduation in 2015 I’ve been focusing on making sculptures and curating online exhibitions. I’m interested in the interplay of psychology and biology, and I’m obsessed with human body and body parts.The sculptures you make have a "Slapstick" humour about them, could you tell us about your work and the thoughts behind them?I find psychology incredibly complex and inspiring, I’m interested in how the human mind works as an individual and collectively as a species. In my sculptures I ask questions like where does a sense of guilt come from? How do we perceive our bodies as aspects of emotion and cognition? How are feelings represented in the body itself? Is there a separation between one’s mind and body or are they interconnected? Through creating sculptures, my attempts at making sense of myself and the chaotic world unfold.Making art functions as piecemeal psychoanalysis for me. My work, however, transcends the personal. Through each work I create, I learn a little more about human vulnerability in relation to the outside world. The tension between the higher self (superego) and bodily impulses (id) is a recurring theme of my work.I employ polystyrene foam, polyurethane foam, and silicone rubber to represent the body, bodily fluids, and skin. The irony of using synthetic materials as flesh betrays the dichotomy between our organic and ethereal minds and machine-like bodies. Furthermore, I leave armatures and layers of materials exposed to disarm the figures’ psychological defenses, allowing us to dive deep into the complex human psyche. Drifting Through The Abyss of Faith's Seventy Thousand Fathoms 2016 Incarceration of a Certain Involuntary Idea 2017 Hysteria 2016 Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?My studio serves as a multi-functional space for me. I call it “the bunker” even though it is four stories above ground. I feel comfortable being vulnerable and honest to myself in here, and it allows me to work on art all day without distractions.I split my studio into two zones, a clean zone and a dirty zone. In the clean zone I have a computer desk where I do most of my research and writing on, a sofa that I can read comfortably; the dirty zone has a large table and some floor space where I work on my sketches and sculptures. I spend half of the time in my studio reading and researching, the other half on working on my artworks. (And probably too many coffee/cigarette breaks in between)What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?I recently visited NADA (New Art Dealers Alliance) Art Fair in NYC, My jaw dropped I saw Stay inside or perish, 2016, a surreal figurative sculpture made of marble hanging from the ceiling made by Ivana Bašić, a Serbian sculptor now lives and works in NYC. The way Bašić explores the tension between organic body and industrial materials, and how she plays with heavy weight and tension through this sculpture really resonated with me.Where has your work been headed more recently?Recently I have been combining organic forms (such as body parts, animals and plants) with geometric structures to explore the relationship between body and machines, I am content with this new direction and I plan to make a new series of works to explore it further. Material wise, I have been incorporating more and more found objects, I find the awkward tension of mixing mass produced merchandises with hand made sculptures quite fascinating. Obligation and Prohibition 2016 Dialectical Synthesis of the Opposite Position 2017 Hung Like Einstein Smart As a Horse 2016 How do you go about naming your work?The naming process of my work is quite random. Sometimes I utilise a technique my friend and I called “book dipping” when a piece of work is inspired by reading. Here’s the book dipping process: After a piece of sculpture is finished, I go back to the books that inspired me and pick out random words and phrases by quickly flipping through pages, I find a way to reconstruct those seemingly unrelated words and use them as the title of my work.Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about? Yes! I will be attending New York University’s MFA studio art program this Fall, I’m very excited to meet the talented people at NYU and become a part of the community.vincentcychen.comAll images courtesy of the artistInterview published 01/06/17

"I’m interested in the grandiose delusions of characters, and the domestication and control of humans over animals." Could you tell us a bit about yourself? How long have you been a practicing artist and where did you study?I quite liked art from a young age. I liked colouring in. I knew I was good at drawing owls and kingfishers as when it rained and we had to stay inside during play time I would sit at the table holding court with a stack of paper surrounded by a small huddle of other children. As they requested, I would either do them an owl or make paper aeroplanes - something else I have always been good at. In fact, I’m interested in throwing things and projectiles in general. When I was in secondary school, art was the most attentive I was towards any subject. I had some very good art teachers. I got into clay and eventually into paints when I was 16. The first painting I produced on canvas was of some men in a row boat. An attempt at futurism, the oars were depicted in a fragmented way to indicate the violence of being thrashed through the water. Painted in cadmium orange and vermillion hue, it has overly thick black outlines around the figures.I had probably just seen Duchamp or Balla in a book and thought yeah I’m into that. By the time I was 18 I knew I wanted to step into painting. I took art foundation at Reading College, an entertaining year for trying all manner things - dark rooms, printing presses, having a bash at fashion, life drawing. From there I moved to London. I was interested in my mother’s roots being imbedded in the East End and all the jobs her family previously had – tea packers, market porters and the like around Spitalfields, Whitechapel and Shadwell. Naively perhaps, I choose London Metropolitan solely on its East End location. I worked on painting and later print making. I felt disillusioned at school and would often sulk in class and paint at home. In my painting ‘lessons’ I couldn’t understand why we were not taught anything of process and technique, which is why I eventually switched to printmaking. In the printing rooms we had equipment to use and techniques to be shown and mastered, and that got me going back into university again. I understand now that this is just the unfortunate way UK art education has gravitated - the teaching of technique is passé, but when I was 19 I didn’t get that and I felt affronted by it. Armitage Shanks, 2017 View fullsize Garibaldi (Green), 2017 View fullsize Sausage Fingers, 2017 View fullsize Bismarck As A Jelly Baby, 2016 Your work has a lot of humour in it, with strange characters and narratives. Could you tell us about these paintings and the inspiration behind them? You may have one story. I’ve been making portraits of Otto van Bismarck. A while back a friend of mine moved house. A welcoming dinner was arranged and I was duly invited. When I arrived at the house, in the kitchen I saw this wonderful painting. Hung before me was a portly old fellow in lush military garbs. Prussian blue. I want to know who it is of – 'Bismarck,' I am told. I want to know who painted it – ‘Ivan,’ I am told, ‘he lives here and he will be coming back late tonight – you can meet him...’All through dinner I build this image of Ivan up in my head. He is witty and charming but wonderfully modest about his painting. We will become best friends. We will move to Margate together and share a studio and paint portraits of each other happily ever after. I am Van Gogh feathering the Yellow House for him, he is Gauguin and I am waiting for him to arrive. But like Gauguin - he is late.Ivan eventually arrives. He is an arrogant and aloof. The dream is broken. We don’t get on. I end up falling over whilst dancing and crash into his dinner table, breaking it. Pleased with myself I laugh on the floor hoping he is in the room watching. As a way of forced apology, the next day I tell my friend to say that I’m sorry. As a throw away remark I add that I am inspired by his Bismarck to have ago Myself, without any real intent to. However, this was provocation and Ivan’s reaction was to take the painting down and re work it. Suddenly I feel powerful. What else can I make him do? I discover he only paints Bismarck and Garibaldi. As a riposte, I decide to start making a series of these figures. I enjoyed the idea of playing sociopath, the idea of toying with macho posturing and the history of frivolous artistic rivalries - Modigliani sneering at Picasso’s dress sense. The initial farcical circumstance as to why I began painting Bismarck has lost relevance now. The series has evolved into something else. Ideas can morph and shift into different realms freely if you allow them, even by your own absence of mind.Tell us a bit about how you spend your day/studio routine? What is your studio like?I tend to live where I work. These are normally haphazard and temporary spaces. I used to squat buildings but I’m out of that scene now. Almost everything I own I deem useful for making work. Having my possessions separated between living and working distresses me. When I have had to take on a separate studio from where I live I find it less productive. There is something glorious about waking up and having everything before you. I had a big enough space over in Hackney that recently dissolved. I came home one day and was greeted by a locksmith who was changing my locks after some grunts had bumped the door open. I was served my notice. Some unscrupulous individual whose job had been to pass on our money to the landlord had done a runner with the last 3 months rent. As I have a show on the horizon I had a desperate search to find something urgently.Currently I find myself subletting in Cable Street Studios, Limehouse from a girl who has run off to Spain to have an affair. Sounds like a bad novel. I am making work for a solo show in a space that is too small so I use the bath as a table to paint on. Cable Street is hilarious. Imagine a malfunctioning sleep over centre full of lank hair, harem trousers and broken bike parts set inside a Victorian coastal fortress. Last time I lived here there was an excellent transvestite club called ‘Stunners,’ but that has sadly closed. As for routines – I don’t have one. Life is not like that. If I have a show coming up I will be reclusive and get on with it. If I’ve not got anything pending, essentially I’ll flirt with different day jobs so I’ll paint in the evening or if I can afford to then I like to travel. I like to walk around new places and point at things. Say Shells, 2016 Whomping, 2016 What artwork have you seen recently that has resonated with you?I was skulking around the back of the Royal Academy recently and I found Mamma Anderson at Stephen Friedman gallery. Anderson’s got two shows on at both the spaces on New Burlington Street. One of the galleries displays all these beautiful woodblock prints. I was like yes I want to go and make woodblocks. They are really beautiful. Some are of a woman working in a field a bit like the Van Gogh peasant worker studies, and there are other prints of gloves with tassels on, like cowboy style rodeo gloves. I had never heard of Mamma Anderson before.Lately I also viewed Rodney Graham at The Baltic in Gateshead. He has produced very simplistic film sequences on loop that played in the space on some beautiful old cinematic projectors. I’m a big fan of repetition. Graham had some large scale, very deliberately staged photographs of himself playing different characters. He has displayed them on light boxes which I don’t think were at all necessary - should have stuck to matte mate.I was in New York recently and gladly saw Circus Sideshow (Parade de cirque) at The Met. Predominately Georges Seurat and Daumier works, the exhibition shows many studies documenting the people who stood outside the circus and gave away little teasers to the audience, enticing them to part with their money and enter the tents. There was a real sense of poignancy in the works as these social outcasts were not the main event, in fact very often the poorest and most down trodden of all the performers.The New Museum is my favourite place to go so every time I am in New York I visit. I feel the New Museum is to New York what the Barbican Centre is to London in some ways. This time around it had an amazing video by A.K Burns alongside an installation of a sparkling blue neon underneath the skeleton of a sofa that I kept wanting to touch.Where has your work been headed more recently?Denmark. I’ve got a solo show coming up in June at Vesterbro Showroom in Copenhagen. It is called ‘Sausage Pile Up.’ The exhibition is based upon the idea of hierarchies, pomp and circumstance. I’m interested in the grandiose delusions of characters, and the domestication and control of humans over animals. These characters feature alongside semi anecdotal images of recent occurrences. I have been making paintings on aluminium and playing with thin layers of pigment in turpentine. There is quite a lot of colour in this show, Cadmium Yellow, Royal Blue, Chromium Green, Pinks and Peaches. As I had to make a significant volume of works in a short space of time I have had to change stylistically for practical reasons. The new works are looser, more gestural and expressive. Simply put – quicker. I have found aluminium perfect for sliding around coloured fluids as its smooth surface lends itself well to this process of paint application. Domestic Bliss, 2017 Living Memories, 2014 How do you go about naming your work?I mainly get my ideas whilst I’m out. Snatches of conversations at parties or outside pubs. It can be phrase I’ve read or someone telling me a story whilst sat on a kitchen floor. If I can bring those things home with me and I still think it’s good the next day with a different head on it will make the list. I have an ever-changing list of titles, generally 20 to 30 unused at any one time. As I work through the list, old titles are crossed out and new ones are added. Some have been on the list for a long time, waiting for me. Some I may never use as words lose relevance. I’ve kept this list for years; it has moved around with me. One day I’ll run out of room or I’ll lose it but no matter I’ll start a new one. Sometimes I wait for a work to fit a title, and other times I think yes that’s such a good title for a painting so I move with impetus and immediately try to work out what the painting could be. Other times it can be less fuss – I’ll start a painting and the title will materialise off-list. Conversely sometimes my titles can be mundane and self-explanatory – a painting of Japanese Noh masks is titled ‘Noh Masks.’ I’m not into these long titles, and I don’t like it when people just number their works – like they are making batches. Baking paintings.Is there anything new and exciting in the pipeline you would like to tell us about? The pipeline is full of sausage. For my forth coming exhibition ‘Sausage Pile Up,’ I am working on a preformative piece. I got really excited finding out that a head chef wears the tallest hat in the kitchen. I love that the height signifies their dominance, an over the top beacon of their status. I am making a chef’s hat that is too tall – so as to show off. I have acquired a sausage stuffing machine that will be producing reams of sausages, multi coloured - I am hoping for pastel shades. I want hundreds of them dolloped on top of an off cut of cream Wilton wool carpet.Part of the exhibition is a collaboration with the band Blue House. The band have been writing lyrics and music based upon imagery and the narratives in my painting. Blue House are going to be playing sets throughout the run of the exhibition. I have not been part of a collaboration like this before and I am excited to hear what they come up with. I am not entirely privy to what has been written, but I do know A capella singing will feature at some point.www.phillip-reeves.co.ukAll images courtesy of the artistInterview published 01/06/17