press play print

*Images throughout this entry are arranged in  chronological order.

Ordinance. Intaglio.  35″ x 83″. 2003.

Charles Cohan is currently Professor of Art and Printmaking Program Chair at the University of Hawaii at Manoa.  This is where I first encountered him during my 2001-2002 year on exchange from Montana State University. As a graphic design major, I took Charlie’s relief printmaking class merely to fill out my studio schedule.  Following this course with Charlie, I switched majors to fine art with an emphasis in printmaking, and have never regretted the decision. Cohan is an inspirational, knowledgeable mentor and a dedicated artist that continually pushes himself and his students conceptually and technically.

Cohan received a BFA in Printmaking from California College of Arts and Crafts and an MFA in Printmaking from Cranbrook Academy of Art. He has held professorships at Florida State University and the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee.

Recent research and teaching projects have taken Charlie to Whanganui Polytech in New Zealand, Hard Ground Printmakers in Cape Town, South Africa, the University of Georgia Study Abroad Program in Cortona, Italy, the Pilchuck Glass School in Washington, and the Fundacion Ludwig in Havana, Cuba, for which he received a U.S. Department of State research travel grant.

Cohan’s latest solo exhibitions were installed at the Curators office in Washington DC and Pyramid Atlantic in Maryland, Artlink Gallery in Seoul, Korea, 1708 Gallery in Richmond, Virginia, and the Biennial of Hawaii Artists at The Contemporary Museum in Honolulu.

I recently had the pleasure to printerview Charles Cohan about his career and experience as an artist.  The following text is the result of several emails & phone conversations.

Erika:   When did you know you were an artist?  What led up to this discovery?

Charlie:  Senior in high school, when asked the question ‘what would you like to study in college’. I was raised in an environment that encouraged my tendency to want to make images. My mom always expressed excitement with regard to my drawings from an early age, and as she was an art student herself, the home-front provided early exposure to the studio environment.

Erika:   Why do you create artwork – to what end?

Charlie: Why?  In no specific order:

a. Ego.

b. For my kids to remember me by.

c. It confuses and thus challenges me.

d. The need to be working constantly with my hands.

e. I love the tools.

To What End? In no specific order:

a. economic security

b. developing ideas from the inside out

c. leaving images behind for future critique and consideration

Erika: This anthropological approach, the notion of our artwork as evidence or clues to who we are as artists, is interesting to me.  I’ve always loved how visual arts allow leeway for interpretation, based on the viewer’s background.  Your work, and you as an artist could be interpreted as many different things by many different people.

Fathom. Intaglio. 60″ x 44″. 2004

Erika: As someone who has never sold much artwork, it is truly inspirational to know those of you who are able to sell work as a reliable source of income.  Where have you discovered a niche for yourself?

Charlie (paraphrased):  I was fortunate enough to meet a gallery director who really took an interest in me.  She limits the number of artists she represents in her gallery and has an understanding of my work and in me as an artist, so she is better able to advocate & sell my work.

Remember, galleries are only one source of revenue.  There are many grants set-up to support the arts, but it seems many young artists are not aware of them.  As entrepreneurs, we all need to focus on alternative avenues for arts revenue. Recently graduated students of mine have started printed-clothing lines, fabric businesses, et. al., all with an eye towards the economic expanse and diversity of their skills via printmaking. We in education need to focus more on these alternative sources of revenue for artistic endeavors and encourage our students beyond the seemingly overemphasis on the dominant ‘gallery’ paradigm.

Erika:  Why & when did you discover printmaking?

Charlie: Initially, I discovered printmaking through my mother, Doris Cohan, who was a student in intaglio and screenprinting courses at Portland State University when I was 7-10 years old, and always had her prints and books on printmaking in our house. At Garfield High School in Seattle I was provided the opportunity to make prints through their arts magnet program. Made some really cool ‘cutout cardboard wrapped in aluminum foil’ collograph prints in 10^th grade, which has honestly been influential from that day forward.

Erika: Has there been a change you have noticed in the availability or necessity of an arts education in the marketplace at large?  Is there enough professional practice for art students to aspire to anything other than arts professors?  Is academia just begetting academics?

Charlie (Paraphrased): I’m not sure we are doing a very good job of teaching students alternative entrepreneurial outlets to the gallery system, but we should be. And we are certainly not teaching them how to teach per se.

Hydra. Lithography, Wax. 92″ x 96″. 2004.

Erika:  For what reasons did you know printmaking was & still is an appropriate medium for your artistic expression?

Charlie: While there is a proper, or appropriate, media/material waiting out there for any idea and creative direction, the transfer of ink onto paper under pressure via an intermediate two-dimensional matrix just happens to suit my visual intentions. In short, I trust an image produced under the application of significant physical pressure, in indelible ink, on fine paper. You can’t fake it.

While my experience in media outside of printmaking is somewhat limited, I have tried to maintain attempts at sculptural experimentation in wood and glass, and see these as having a growing importance beyond the exclusively printed direction of my past projects.

Erika: Can you give a little more information on these more sculptural projects and perhaps reflect on how they may have influenced your printmaking and art-making in general?

Charlie (paraphrased): I like the fact that I can physically reach into sculptural work; obviously I can’t do this in the same way with print.  Perhaps this is just a way of trying to create more  ‘dimensional’ plates in a sense. Making sculpture is a really humbling experience for me, because I know I face the criticism of those who have been practicing that particular media, and focusing on that form, for many years. And, as I have long maintained, sculptors are the best drafts-persons.

Erika:  In what direction (s) do you suspect printmaking will go?  Are there particular processes that have already begun to obliterate all others?  Are there thematic trends for printmaking different, or similar, to all of contemporary art making?

Charlie: I worry that the making of prints is becoming ‘too easy’, both stylistically and materially.

Where printmaking is going seems to be everywhere, as everything is anywhere these days . As far as current thematic trends, everybody’s everything. Hard to see the trend from the fad. Show me progressive work that is not part and parcel of the dominant thematic trends, and we can have a discussion about truly interesting work.

Terrarium III. Intaglio, Lithography.  22″ x 30″. 2005.

Erika:  What do you consider to be your first real “breakthrough” exhibition? At what stage in life did that happen for you, and what types of obstacles did you have to go through prior to that opportunity?

Charlie: I actually never had any ‘early’ breakthrough exhibitions. The usual mix of competitive juried print competitions in the days immediately out of grad school leading to invitational exhibitions, group, two person, solo, et al. But none that really put my work on the map.

It was actually not until 1708 Gallery, Richmond, VA   2003? Early mid career, 15 years out of grad school! Exposed my work to Andrea Pollan at Curators office and the folks at Pyramid Atlantic.

The major obstacle leading up to this exhibition was simply that I was not making work that was good enough to build a strong solo show upon.

Erika: How did you finally land that show?

Charlie: Cranbrook graduate school colleague Mr. Peter Calvert.  He was the director of 1708 in the early 2000’s We kept in touch, he set me up.

Erika: What sacrifices were you making at this stage of your career?

Charlie: In terms of my studio production, the greatest early, and current, sacrifice is my commitment to a full time university level teaching position.

Erika: Were you satisfied with the gallery you showed at and the review your work received?

Charlie: Yes, completely.

Terminal Diagrams.  Collograph. 6′ x 10′. 2005.

Erika: What did it take to gain a second and third show?  How aggressive did you have to be to perpetuate a constant exhibition schedule?

Charlie: I made more work – a lot more work.  As I tend to make distinct and specifically different bodies of work, the variety of the projects seemed to perpetuate the shows more than any other factor as they were able to lend themselves to various niches and thus diverse exhibition and gallery types.

Erika:  It seems as though we all experience plateaus both in our art making and in our careers.  Looking back, when were you able to move from this preliminary stage of exhibiting and progress towards becoming well recognized?

Charlie: Actually, I don’t know how to identify the plateaus or stages. Don’t know if I will ever be able to see the hills from the valleys. If the work is going well in the studio, that’s a hilltop. If not, the shadows loom large. I don’t see certain ‘exhibitions’ or forms of ‘recognition’ as reflecting the highs, or lack thereof as signifying the lows.  Hopefully, the studio narrative gets beyond this sort of evaluation. Just because one is showing well does not mean that the work is good.

Erika: Can you point to certain events or exhibitions, which projected your career forward at each of those stages?

Charlie: I have to say that the Southern Graphics council did more for my early career than any other single mechanism. Almost biennial presentations at their annual conferences from 1992 – 2002 and the connections that I made during this time were very important.

Terrarium VI. Intaglio & Lithography. 30″ x 40″. 2006.

Travel has had a very significant effect upon my career. Teaching and/or exhibiting throughout North America and South Africa, New Zealand, Korea, and Italy has impacted not only my relations with an expanding community of artists but also produced extended perspectives and insights throughout the print world.

Erika: Where are you now in the trajectory that you have laid out for yourself?

Charlie: I have never laid out a trajectory for my career. Where I am going, hopefully much farther. Seriously, with respect to the term trajectory, I say keep traveling further away, both figuratively and literally.  Many laid-out trajectories are so tight, so preplanned, so predictable. With my work, I strive to maintain multiple trajectories, and try not to resist the contradictions that arise amidst their differences.

Erika: For years, you have taught, how difficult has it been for you to balance your teaching career with your artistic career?  What makes you remain in academia?  What do we academic types tend to focus too much on?  And what not enough?

Charlie: Four answers to 4 questions:

a. Very difficult. b. Money and teaching. c. Professional practice. d. Magic.

F1, 08 I – IX. Collograph. 46″ x 40″. 2010.

Erika: Do you still work just as hard today to “get your work out there” as you did before you were so well known?

Charlie: Yes, and more so.  As the old adage goes, ‘the more you show, the more you show’. And my personal take “the more you make, the more you ‘have’ to show, thus the more you show”.

Erika: Over the course of your career, are there some sacrifices that you wish you hadn’t made?  Or any choices that you might have modified with hindsight?

Charlie: I don’t really think like this.  Modification in hindsight is a scary thing for me to even think about.

Erika: When you think back over the decades of art making that you have sustained, what individual works or bodies of work do you feel most satisfied about?

Charlie: That would be the work that has not yet been completed. I am honestly never satisfied with anything that I make. That is one of the reasons why I keep making – the drive to make better.

Erika: What is your best advice for emerging artists?

Charlie: Work you butt off, be cool, strive to understand the relative nature of the contemporary art world, and continually challenge yourself anew in your studio. Don’t be complacent with your imagery, content, materials, or tools. Always know that someone else is out there kicking your ass, right now as a matter of fact. And travel!!

F1,08 X – IIIXX. Collograph. 46″ x 40″. 2010.

Erika: Which contemporary artists are most engaging to you?

Charlie: Sculptors Anish Kapoor and Martin Puryear have been very interesting for me to revisit as of late.

Erika: Have you ever noticed the work of those around you (students, wife, etc.) directly influencing your own imagery or practice?  If so, could you give an example?

Charlie: Actually, I consciously avoid the influences of my students and my wife, and enjoy celebrating the differences. Although, my 4 year old daughter is definitely giving me a run for it as her drawing skills are far superior to mine and I really admire her recent work. Seriously!  I admit that I consciously steer away from directions that I see developing around me, and have been told that my work would do fine to be made in a cave. I tend to be influenced more by opposition than by similarity. Thus, I am much more affected by what is not going on directly around me than by what is – kind of an influence by absence.

Erika: As a former student, this statement is interesting and telling.  I always admired how you were able to identify your students’ goals and offer advice to help to help them best technically and conceptually attain them, without imposing your ideas and methods on them.

Charlie (Added): Thanks Erika, that’s nice of you to say. I always tell the classes at the beginning of every semester that the UH print program is much more interested in a school of thought dominated by diversity than similarity. But, I am also not hesitant to give away my specific tricks.

Erika: What is the question that I should have asked?

Charlie: What papers have you recently been printing on and why?

Erika: If you were not an artist, what would you be?

Charlie: Don’t know.  Early on I wanted to be an architect, but I was not good at math.

*For more information on Charles Cohan, visit his web site at: http://www.charlescohan.com/

In 2008, Nevada artist Candace Nicol began the 6Sides2EveryStory project, which encourages artists all over the globe to examine a newsworthy in collaboration through the printmaking medium. Six artists carved six different perspectives towards the news article picked for each block into each of 100, 2-inch cubes of wood.  Candace printed the blocks and their individual 6-paneled narrative images as they were returned to her over a 2-year period of time.

As a participating artist in 6Sides2EveryStory, I enjoyed working with 5 other artists in my community on block #91: “Abandoned Owls Blamed on Harry Potter”.  Some blocks were carved by a group whose members already knew each other, and some blocks were shared across communities. In January 2010, the first exhibition of 100 finished blocks and prints opened at Western Nevada College, where it remains on view through February 25, 2010. In this interview by Laura Berman, Candace answers some questions about the overall 6Sides2EveryStory project and its results.

What was your inspiration for the 6Sides2EveryStory project?

I had been organizing print exchanges and I really wanted to do something that could potentially include people that might not know that much about printmaking.  I really was searching for a collaborative project that was different from the traditional exchange, something that I might not be able to control much after I set up the basic parameters. To do something like this, I had to organize a project that wouldn’t cost a lot, would be easy to “move” around the globe, and would not require special tools or techniques.  I first thought of woodcuts or even linoleum puzzles pieces.  When I was searching for the wood, I came across these 2”x2” cubes.  I’m sure that in my mind, the history of exquisite corpse triggered the idea – Hey, what about creating little narratives with 6 artists and one news article.  This was in late 2007 and early 2008 when I was thinking about this.  There was a lot of interesting news surrounding the presidential race and as a consequence, important social, economic and environmental topics were being debated.  The concept of 6sides just fell into place.  Once, I wrote the prospectus, I distributed copies to artists at the Virginia Commonwealth SGC Conference.  The first artists came from that initial contact.  I also sent out the information to everyone on my email list, hoping that the information would be forwarded to new people.

Where are you now in the trajectory that you have laid out for 6Sides2EveryStory?

The cubes are finished and the editions are printed.  I still have to send prints to the final participants.  See… part of the project was that I gave something back to the artists that carved on the cube.  Also, the prints visually connect the images with the artists and the story… so everyone has a memento of the project.  I also have to finish the book for the project and update the website and blog…and….find more exhibition spaces.

What are some of your favorite starting points for the cubes? Which are your favorite finished prints?

Some of my favorite starting points were the stories picked by students.  WHERE did they find these stories?  My all-time favorite is the story of the man arrested for receiving sexual favors from a car vac (cube #50).  A student in my class found that news article.  He was so shy and thought we would all make fun of him for picking it, but the class just LOVED it!  Another cube that really emphasized the spirit of this project was cube #9.  Melanie Yazzie started the cube and she included her 10-year old niece who carved the net image on the cube.  That cube was one of my favorite finished prints because while printing, I was soooo proud of myself for getting the subtle details to come through.  My other favorite final print is “Busy Bees” (cube 64) started by April Vollmer.  This cube took on some interesting perspectives and the artists really documented their thought processes, so I think I ended up having a strong connection to it because I knew what each of the images signified.

Cube # 9 It’s Official: Caribbean Monk Seal is Extinct.  Story Source: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/25007277 Artists: Melanie Yazzie (CO), C.Maxx Stevens (CO), Maggie Goat (OK), Triston Myna Baldwin (AZ)

What did you learn about the printmaking community through this project?

How thankful I am to be a part of it!  Seriously, there is such a tremendous energy in the printmaking community that would allow for a project like this.  Everybody involved in starting a cube has very busy lives and they still found time to work on this.  The cube starters had the challenge of not only picking out a story that everyone could work on, but also having to motivate 5 other artists into finishing their sides of the cube.  Many cube starters couldn’t do it and the cubes came back unfinished.  This was one of those “I couldn’t control the outcome” circumstances.  It worked out great because I had individual artists email me and want to carve a side but didn’t want to start a cube.  Some examples of this were cubes 2, 44, 71, 86, 89, 93, 94.  Also, I learned how democratic the printmaking community is.  This project had so many different kinds of people involved, many who were not even artists, let alone printmakers.  Everyone accepted the project as one that was about connection, not technique.  Some of the cubes are rough, carved out with cheap carving tools or knives or whatever was available, while others were carved with precise engraving tools.  But it didn’t matter when all the prints came together because it represented how unique we all are and how individually, we could each contribute to a woven tapestry that in the end would document how wonderful it is to exist a world of such diversity.

Why is it important that 6Sides2EveryStory manifests in print form? How does the printmaking process add to this project’s dialog and collaboration?

It was important that I print the cubes so that all 6 sides could be shown in a narrative format.  If we just left the carvings and tried to display the cubes alone, some sides would be covered.  The other component was that I wanted to be able to give back to the participants who took the time from their busy lives to carve these cubes.  Trust me, the cubes were not easy to carve into.  They were awkward to hold down while carving.  There were too types of wood circulating, too.  Some of the cubes were made from a hardwood and the others were made of softwood.  The artists who ended up with the hardwood needed really sharp tools or engraving tools.  The wonderful aspect of printmaking is the multiple, that each artist could have a finished print.  A lot of the participants, especially the ones that were carving the first sides, would not even know what the end result looked like if we didn’t print the cube.  In the beginning of the project, I would get a cube printed and then post it on the blog and people who had carved a side would be amazed at the final print.

Cube #11 Gray Thunder.  Original News Source: An excerpt from article by Cyril Christo, May/June 2008  Orion Magazine Artists: Jill Fitterer (ID), B. Love (ID), Denise Lauerman (ID), Zachary Haight (ID), Marissa Keith (ID), Melissa Stephenson (ID)

Did 6Sides2EveryStory intersect with your teaching at all? If so, how were your students/classes involved in this project?

The students are a big component to the project, especially for me and for Sharon Tetley, Printmaking Professor at Western Nevada College in Carson City.  This project was perfect for getting students between the two colleges to collaborate, both printmaking students and art foundation students. For three semesters, we had students contributing.  I know that many other “cube starters” are professors and they included their students in the project, too.  It was a chance to get students involved in one of the most important aspects of printmaking, that of collaboration.

How important is community to the 6Sides2EveryStory project and to your own work?

I think that so much of my own art activity is centered on attempting to connect artists.  At the same time as 6sides, I had been working on a big collaboration involving all kinds of artists across states for 2009 Burning Man project www.commd.org and now, a collaborative project involving artists from Northern Nevada and Southern Nevada www.geographicaldivides.blogspot.com. Working in Nevada….not a lot of printmakers, so we have to find ways to connect with one another and to connect to printmakers from other states.  For me personally, 6Sides2Every Story inspired me and kept me going as a printmaker.  During this project, the economy took a nose-dive and I found myself not being able to afford to go to SGC or to other conferences, but because of the cube project, I still had a connection to other artists and printmakers around the globe.  I’m grateful for that.

What is your best advice for someone thinking of beginning a project of this scope?

The best advice – if you have an idea and you think…. “I can’t do this”…. DON’T think that way and believe in your fellow printmakers, they will amaze you!  Have a lot of patience and do everything in little steps but stay persistent.  There was a time during this project that I wanted to just give up, but I knew I would disappoint the artists that had already committed to the project.  Also, sometimes, projects take a long time to complete, but if you just keep at it, the project will be a success…maybe not what you envisioned at the beginning…. but the outcome will be interesting non-the-less.

Which contemporary artists are most engaging to you?

As far as printmaking, I just love John Hitchcock’s work and how he connects with students while creating installations.  I have always loved his use of the multiple in three-dimensional forms.  Another artist/printmaker who does that is Jennifer Anderson in California.  I’m also attracted to her work because she references the body.  Okay, so my all time favorite artist?  Ida Applebroog, of course.  Bold, distinct, fragmented narratives, and no fear of unveiling the taboo.

If you were not an artist, what would you be?

A high school art teacher…oh wait, I was that for a while.

What is the question that I should have asked?

Oh, I do want to add:  The news stories were such an important aspect to the project and I really thought the majority of cubes would be about the election.  Instead, it was interesting to see that most people were concerned for the environment.   The actual election, which was dominating the news at the time, was not the primary inspiration for stories.  Oh…and what is with the fascination over cows?  There are soooo many cow images in this project.  One story, too, is about cows being killed by lightning.

Cube #95 Just Another Week on Earth.  Original News Source: Harper’s Weekley, May 20. 2008, Weekly Review, By Chantal Clarke Artists: Linda Katzdorn, CA; Dan Samborski, CA; Katherine Venturelli, CA; William E. Kubow, CA; Nolan Winkler, NM; R.Wm. Winkler, NM

So, this is really interesting:  Over 100 cubes went out.  A lot were MIA.  Some were never started.  But what is really incredible is that we got 90 back.  The total count was 95, but 5 are missing in the sequence.  So… the last cube’s story title is “Just Another Week on Earth” started by Linda Katzdom in California.  This is such a fitting story to end the cube project with.  The original story goes like this:

Harpers Weekley

May 20. 2008

Weekly Review

By Chantal Clarke

A 7.9-magnitude earthquake centered in Sichuan Province, China, left 50,000 dead and 5,000,000 homeless. Outside Beichuan Middle School, where 1,000 students and teachers died, parents waited for the bodies of their children to be pulled from the rubble, lighting a single firecracker each time a body was found. A married couple lay under their workers’ dormitory for 28 hours, their limbs crushed and entwined. “I tried bending my neck against the wall to kill myself,” said the husband after being rescued. Three minutes of silence and three days of mourning were observed throughout the nation, and the Olympic Torch relay was suspended. “Other people who know their relatives have died can call this a memorial day or a funeral,” said a farmer named Wang Hongchen, who wandered the ruins shouting his son’s name, “but not me yet.” Predictions of a powerful new earthquake sent tens of thousands of Chengdu residents rushing to the streets in panic. A three-day period of mourning was also declared for 130,000 dead or missing victims of the cyclone in Myanmar, where the country’s military junta, under protest by the United Nations, continued to turn away much foreign aid. As oil prices reached $127 a barrel, President George W. Bush pleaded with Saudi Arabia to increase pumping, but was rebuffed; he also told Middle Eastern leaders that their economies would not be successful until they gave women equal opportunities. “This is a matter of morality,” he said, “and basic math.” A 19-year-old college freshman was elected mayor of Muskogee, Oklahoma. “Right now I’m between girlfriends,” said John Tyler Hammons, who is president of both the Young Republicans and the Young Democrats at his university. “I’m looking to fill that position.” Cherie Blair revealed that her husband, ex-British Prime Minister Tony Blair, had announced her miscarriage to the press in order to deter speculation about an early invasion of Iraq and perennial U.S. presidential candidate Alan Keyes declared that he represents, “in political terms, the abortion. You’re invited in, but they kill you.”

House Judiciary Committee Chairman John Conyers said that Karl Rove had a week to appear before the committee. “Someone’s got to kick his ass,” said Conyers. House Republicans began using a new slogan, “the change you deserve,” which turned out to be the slogan of the antidepressant Effexor. The California Supreme Court struck down a state ban on same-sex marriage, surprising legal experts because six of the seven judges are Republican, and the Vatican’s chief astronomer said that it’s not a contradiction of faith to believe in aliens and that we may have intelligent, God-created “extraterrestrial brothers.” Morehouse College in Atlanta named its first white valedictorian. “I support him and his mission to be successful in life,” said a junior. “I just kind of wish he had done it at a different institution.” The invasion of tasteless Chinese truffles threatened the primacy of the European Perigord black truffle, and billions of hairy, reddish-brown “crazy Rasberry ants” (named for a local exterminator) were swarming through the greater Houston area. “They have nowhere to go, just running crazy wild,” said one resident. “You know what it’s like to sit down on the commode with crazy ants running everywhere?” U.S. Air Force pilots were testing the Advanced Mission Extender Device, the result of a $5 million program to replace unhygienic “piddle packs” with a system that converts urine into a gel. Los Angeles was considering whether to turn its raw sewage into drinking water.

Robert Rauschenberg died at the age of 82, and the former head of UCLA’s cadaver program was indicted for selling over $1 million in body parts. Natascha Kampusch, who prior to the recent emergence of the Josef Fritzl case was the most famous Austrian to have been imprisoned in a cellar sex dungeon, felt compelled to buy her once-captor’s house so that it wouldn’t be torn down or vandalized. The Pentagon announced that it will build a permanent 40-acre detention complex in Afghanistan to replace crumbling Bagram prison. “This place,“ explained a military official regarding Bagram, ”was not made to keep people there indefinitely.” Curators at the Museum of Modern Art pulled the incubator plug on a tiny coat made of living mouse stem cells after it grew too fast, and scientists at Cornell University created the first genetically modified human embryo. At an NRA convention in Kentucky, Mike Huckabee made a joke after hearing a noise off-stage. “That was Barack Obama,” he said. ”Somebody aimed a gun at him and he dove for the floor.” A poem written by Obama in 1981 was discovered and republished:

Under water grottos, caverns

Filled with apes

That eat figs

Stepping on the figs

That the apes

Eat, they crunch

The apes howl, bare

Their fangs, dance,

Tumble in the

Rushing water

Musty, wet pelts

Glistening in the blue.

- – -

More about Candace Nicol:

Candace Nicol has a MFA from Boise State University and a BFA from University of Nevada, Reno. Candace is a co-founder of the Northern Nevada Printmakers’ Conspiracy which presents works in national and international collections. She has been awarded the distinguished Nevada Arts Council 2009 Artist Fellowship, a Sierra Arts 2008 Artist Grant, and received an honorable mention from the quarterly magazine, Printmaking Today. | candacenicol.com »

Links: www.6sides2everystory.blogspot.com

An Interview with Lynne Allen

by Sandra Murchison, Associate Professor of Art & Chair of the Art Dept. at Millsaps College in Jackson, MS

Lynne Allen is an accomplished artist, with international acclaim, and gracious enough to agree to answer my long list of of questions. Lynne Allen is Professor of Art and the Director of the School of Visual Arts at Boston University, in the College of Fine Arts.

(Click on “Printerviews” for my interview with Jane Hammond.)

S.M.    In what direction (s) do you suspect printmaking will go?  Are there particular processes that have already begun to obliterate all others?  Are there thematic trends for printmaking different, or similar, to all of contemporary art making?

L.A.   You know, this question (where is printmaking going? Is it dead?) has been asked for the past 30 years (now I date myself) and like painting, which Chuck Close said has died 5 times during his lifetime, printmaking is not going anywhere, and is actually getting stronger. I do think the popularity of certain techniques comes and goes. Woodcut has been on the rise for awhile, papermaking is now a full fledged medium of its own, and photogravure is making a resurgence.  These trends are natural and unpredictable.   I also believe that artists who are not printmakers are the ones who are helping to ensure printmaking’s longevity. I think most prints in major museums or collections are by artists whose major medium is not printmaking. The fact they want to make prints should be seen as a good sign.  When we can blur the boundaries between ‘major’ medium and ‘minor’ medium, then we have made progress.  And when printmakers make work that can hold a wall like a painting or video, that would be good too.  I think each medium influences the other. You give an artist some tools and they’ll figure out a different way to use it.

S.M.   What is your best advice for emerging artists? 

L.A.   Being an artist is a job, which means hours in the studio perfecting not only the craft, but the content of one’s work.  The best advice is to keep making and keep pushing. Take risks, apply for everything, keep current and just keep pushing.  I believe if you have a plan, you won’t fulfill it, but if you are open to whatever unfolds, things will open up for you.  Although this is rather general advice, it is important.  Everybody comes from a different place, lives in a different environment and the art world changes every ten years or so, so each person has to find their own path.

S.M.    Which contemporary artists are most engaging to you?

L.A.   My tastes are pretty varied and eclectic. Bruce Nauman, Glen Ligon (I love his neon), Fred Wilson, Jenny Saville, Alyson Shotz, Judy Pfaff, Francis Alys, Antoni Tàpies, Anselm Kiefer, Cy Twombly, Sally Mann, Ed Rusche, Rachel Whiteread, Marsden Hartley, Milton Avery…..the list goes on.  You said contemporary so I won’t include Goya.

S.M.    What do you consider to be your first real “breakthrough” exhibition? At what stage in life did that happen for you, and what types of obstacles did you have to go through prior to that opportunity?

L.A.   I lived in Europe for 7 years before going to Tamarind in 1980. When I moved to New Jersey to work at Rutgers (1987), I had been away from the east coast nearly 15 years. I was very much out of any art scene there, so my first real exposure was at the Fleischer Art Memorial in Philadelphia. It was a competition and you got a one person exhibition if you were chosen. This was the first step in establishing connections on the east coast and validated my work. I was in my late 30’s then, I think, with a two year old and a new job.

S.M.    How did you finally land that show? 

L.A.   I think there were two rounds. You sent in slides and then brought real work to be juried. I don’t really remember, I just remember I was applying for everything. You had to live within 50 miles of Philadelphia to apply. I lived 48 miles away!

S.M.    Were you satisfied with the gallery you showed at and the review your work received?

L.A.   This was a baby step, although Fleisher is affiliated with the Philadelphia Art Museum, it wasn’t a relationship that would continue.  I did get some press but it was really just the first step in establishing myself in a broader environment.  I also produced a cohesive body of work for this show, which was also important. It forced me to be focused on the content of the entire show.

S.M.    What did it take to gain a second and third show?  How aggressive did you have to be to perpetuate a constant exhibition schedule?

L.A.   I was in a lot of group shows. I took my own advice, and applied for everything and soon I was getting into the juried print competitions across the country.  I got some state grants and applied for other grants that helped me travel or produce work.  I also began to work in print workshops somewhere else or had artist residencies, either on sabbaticals or during the summers. I taught litho every summer in Sweden and always made work there. I have always joked that until I moved to Boston, I made all my work somewhere else because it was the only time I had away from the job or taking out the garbage.  In the early stages of a career, at least for me, group shows were the only real way for a printmaker to show their work.  At first I would show anywhere, but after awhile I chose more carefully and looked for the important jurors or the best venues, in order to raise the caliber and status of the show.  I applied to exhibitions that made a catalog. I also applied for things overseas and got into a few International Biennials.  I was very lucky to get a show in New York. I asked curators into my studio. David Kiehl from the Whitney came and it was energizing. It was incredible that he came. I lived in New Jersey and later Pennsylvania, but I was close enough to New York, curators would visit. That was helpful in getting my work known and into collections that matter and in getting some exhibitions. I never looked for gallery representation, mainly because so few were showing prints then and also one had to be very productive to have editions and a continually changing body of work.  I was always torn between family, job, and studio and never felt I had enough work. Maybe I did, but either way, I never pushed for that.

S.M.    What sacrifices were you making at this early stage of your career? 

L.A.   My first reaction is to say ‘huge’ but when I think about it, everything I did was because I wanted to do it, so it can’t really be a sacrifice.  I had a family and a demanding job, which compounded every decision about what I was going to strive for.  There were huge financial hardships. We had no money. There was the mortgage and braces, and all the things one needs to produce art, and trying to travel, then framing work and shipping it, it was never ending.  We always worried about money but spent it on what meant the most to us, so we did do without unnecessary things. I don’t think that is any different than any other working artists, truthfully.

S.M.    It seems as though we all experience plateaus both in our art making and in our careers.  Looking back, when were you able to move from this preliminary stage of exhibiting and progress towards becoming well recognized?

L.A.    My biggest obstacle was lack of time or to be perfectly honest, better time management. The key is making the work and making enough of it to get it out there. Once it’s out there, it begins to be recognized. If you live long enough and keep working and get the work out there, you are bound to have somebody know your work! It was important for me to have museum curators look at the work and to network with people in the art world and other printmakers.   I was asked to show in museums, which in one way didn’t produce many sales but at the same time it gave me exposure and validation. In the early stages I made a lot of work that sometimes was unfocused- I didn’t make anything in a series, which now is so important to what I do. The benefit of a sustained career or studio practice is the work evolves. As you learn more about yourself, you begin to make work that really says what you mean. And as your career improves and you make more money, you can spend more on that practice so the work is more professional and maybe spreads into other mediums, which would have been prohibitive before.  The trick is to have the right people recognize the work! There is no career if curators and museum collections don’t know who you are. Having said that, there are many ways to have a career.  One person might want to be in the Museum of Modern Art Collection whereas another person is very satisfied to sell enough work to support themselves and live where they want to, not where a job is or where the art world seems to think you need to live.  I don’t think there is only one way to be successful.

S.M.   How many plateaus or stages do you feel your career has taken?  Can you point to certain events or exhibitions, which projected your career forward at each of those stages?  

L.A.   It is interesting to think back. I got a job teaching in Europe because I wanted to live in Europe and had my first real show there. The gallery was small, the work was very young and unfocused, but it was the first taste of a real exhibition.  Once I moved back to the east coast, after years of juried exhibitions (this was even before the portfolio exchange craze),  I was lucky to have Marilyn Kushner at the Brooklyn Museum put my work into the Digital Now show which was the last of their Print Biennials.  That was an important show and although it was the beginning of a certain typecasting of my work, it was still very important for me.  After that things did seem to open up a bit. But at the same time I was granted tenure and then full professor, so things in the rest of my life improved. I had more freedom and could focus on those things that would benefit me the most and which I found the most interesting.  You ask about plateaus or stages and although I have never looked at my career that way, you could break it down to geography. I showed in Holland, then I moved to New Mexico and showed there. Then I moved to New Jersey/Pennsylvania where I think my work reached a new maturity. Everything builds up for you through experience and exposure.  Living close to New York was educational and allowed me to figure out where I fit or didn’t fit and those years were pivotal in my development. If you look at the career of any artist, you can follow how their work changes and grows over time. I would venture to say I had no plateaus, I was, and still am,  slowly trudging up the hill.

S.M.   Where are you now in the trajectory that you have laid out for yourself? 

L.A.    I think a planned trajectory is the kiss of death. I never had a plan. I still don’t.  I moved to Europe when I was 23 because I wanted to learn more about the world and returned when I was 31. That was totally unexpected and it had a huge impact on the content of my art work. I was teaching art and was a ‘jack of all trades,’ teaching everything from photography to ceramics and painting and printmaking. Then I went to Tamarind to become proficient in lithography.  I was always drawn to prints, since undergraduate school, so it was natural for me to want to go into that medium, although it would have never dawned on me to apply to Tamarind if I hadn’t taken a summer course in Banff with Tamarind’s master printer, John Sommers. Tamarind was for the ‘big guys’ and I didn’t see myself in that league. Then I needed an MFA after that, so I could stop being a master printer, which exhausts your own creative potential.  I was at Tamarind for 7 years and then looked for a teaching job. When I got involved in the Rutgers Center for Innovative Print and Paper (Now the Brodsky Center for Innovative Editions) while teaching at Rutgers, which were a fabulous 19 years of my life, an entirely different world opened up for me. Helping to build that workshop and being involved in choosing the artists was life changing. I never expected to leave Rutgers, so the move to Boston was totally unexpected. Fortunately each of my job experiences has helped my work, my confidence, my skills and my knowledge of the contemporary art world. If anything, that has created the trajectory you refer to, although nothing was ever planned. Maybe some people know they are great and they’ll be ‘discovered,’ but more likely it works out that you work hard, you push, you don’t give up and you pray something good comes out of it.

S.M.   Do you still work just as hard today to “get your work out there” as you did before you were so well known?

L.A.   Of course, an artist never retires.  I continue to push my work, to make meaningful work and work that challenges me, and I try to get it shown.  Whether I am well known is another question. In the print world perhaps, but in the bigger arena I am not so sure. I am in some good collections, and I am very happy about that.

S.M.   For years, you have taught, how difficult has it been for you to balance your teaching career with your artistic career?  What makes you remain in academia?  What do we academic types tend to focus too much on?  And what not enough? 

L.A.   It’s very difficult to balance it all.  Not just the teaching and the years of working towards promotion, but balancing your art career amidst the duties of raising a family and all that entails. It is much harder for women.  Maybe that’s sexist, many men juggle a job, a family and a career, but motherhood throws a huge wrench into the mix.   Regarding academia and why I have remained in it, I enjoy it. It isn’t just about giving, because you always get something back. Getting to the heart of why somebody makes what they make is rewarding. It is the unspoken things inside ourselves, that we can’t articulate, that make us visual artists in the first place.  Many young artists don’t know what that is yet and working with them is exciting. I believe young artists need to read and educate themselves about the world around them and what part they play in it. Helping them to find their passion energizes my own. I am of an age where my father made me get a degree in Art Education, so if my husband left me I wouldn’t be a waitress.   It was always thought a woman would get married and raise a family, so my father was being practical. I don’t regret that at all, it allowed me to move to Europe after I got an MA.  My years at Tamarind also involved teaching because I was not just the master printer, but I taught the printer training program. Teaching is just part of what I do.  I have stuck with it because I like it, although now that I am a Director I only teach one class a year.  Once you get a tenured job, unless other doors open, it is hard to give up the security. What do we focus on too much? I am sure this is different for everyone and it depends on individual ambition. We tend to focus on those things that will get us promoted. If that doesn’t short change one’s studio practice, which is the thing we should be focusing on more than anything else, then it is just a balancing act.

S.M.  Over the course of your career, are there some sacrifices that you wish you hadn’t made?  Or any choices that you might have modified with hindsight? 

L.A.   Not really. I don’t regret anything and don’t believe in regret. I think we do things that are necessary for that particular time in our lives. To look back in hind sight and question something is a waste of time.  I believe in looking forward.  When one door closes another opens.

S.M.    Have you stopped making three dimensional prints, or have you merely put them “on hold”?  

L.A.   At the moment I am not making any and think I am finished with it. I got pigeon-holed into that genre after the Brooklyn Museum show. When I started to make the 3-D moccasins and bags, I had this incredible need to use my hands more, to grab anything laying around and use it. It all started after I got the writings of my great grandmother— creating my own artifacts was a way to make a connection to my native heritage. I never meant it to be my signature style.  My work has always been about the disenfranchised, the homeless, those down and out and the dignity of the human spirit. That work was part of that, but now I am moving into other arenas because there is plenty of hardship to go around out there.

S.M.  When you think back over the decades of art making that you have sustained, what individual works or bodies of work do you feel most satisfied about? 

L.A.   Although my MFA is in painting, I think some of my early large monotypes (from graduate school) are still pretty powerful, as are the large lithos. I was using drawing so much more then, they were very free and very black and dramatic. I like many of my 2-D prints that have a native reference because they are about educating the public.  I like how I began to mix mediums together, nothing was ever just one medium. I am very satisfied with my new photogravures and the direction the new work is going. It is very, very different for me. I also like some of the stitching I am doing on packing blankets and think there is a nice direction to explore there. I’ve cast a lot of objects lately, for an upcoming exhibition, but not sure whether I’ll continue with that.

S.M.   Your work relies heavily on historical events and a specific culture and its people.  What are the potential pitfalls when referencing such sensitive stories? 

L.A.   The work about the homeless, hyenas, Alzheimer patients, and the brutality of the police all relied on reality and metaphor, not specific cultures. When the work touched my own background, which was only  about 11 years ago, it became historical. The stories are sensitive but mostly forgotten. People believe Columbus brought the Pilgrims to Plymouth Rock. People think the small pox blankets were a myth. My main worry was not to appear to preach to that ignorance. I have tried to make people question the work, thereby actually learning a bit about the subject. I had a show at the Plains Art Museum in Fargo, N.D. and one person wrote and thanked me for opening their eyes to the history of the Native, when not far away there are Indian Reservations. People do not learn from history and history is rewritten every day.  The pitfall of referencing my own heritage is that I am not an enrolled member of my mother’s tribe. She never enrolled my brother’s and me on the Standing Rock Indian Reservation in South Dakota. Even though I can trace back 6 generations and have family heirlooms, writings, and photographs and know more about that than my fathers side of the family, some might find it disingenuous because I did not live the experience myself.  It was Melanie Yazzie who told me to ‘come out of the closet’ and gave me license to embrace my heritage.

S.M.   What have been the most challenging dilemmas about depicting your relatives’ history? 

L.A.   It is very painful. Once you realize the falsity, the hardship and the untapped potential, its makes you mad. My great grandmother was an amazing woman. She was one of the first to be sent to the Haskell Institute in Virginia (a school for freed black slaves where the Indian was the lowest of the low) as an experiment to see if the savage could be educated. She came back literate, although with some domestic skills, like sewing.  She was more educated than her white husband.  She met President Grover Cleveland!  She wrote letters to Washington, D.C. for Sitting Bull and wrote an entire manuscript about the move to reservation life, which included interviews with the chiefs who were at the Battle of the Little Big Horn. She realized their way of life was changing.  My inspiration and imagery come from historical things I read and things she wrote. The particular body of work that came from that is an homage to her.  Once you research the reality of the ‘taming’ of the West, it is very bloody and painful and nothing to be proud of.  Making work about that, even in a subtle way,  doesn’t always look great over the sofa.  The sad truth is I make what I am driven to make.

S.M.  What is the question that I should have asked? 

L.A.   I’m a limp rag after all these questions!

An Interview with Jane Hammond

by Sandra Murchison, Associate Professor of Art & Chair of the Art Dept. at Millsaps College in Jackson, MS

I had the pleasure and unusual experience of interviewing the internationally acclaimed artist Jane Hammond, as I sat in my car on a rainy day and laughed with her over the phone.  Who says you can’t stay in touch even when temporarily living in a rustic cabin in Black Mountain, NC?  I tried to imagine what kind of wonderful NYC loft Jane was in as she generously allowed me to reflect on her life.  After transcribing my notes, I wrote a draft of the following and then Jane filled in any gaps for me over an email exchange.

S.M.  Jane, thank you again for agreeing to take the time to talk with me and answer my questions.  Everyone I spoke with at this year’s Southern Graphics Council Conference was very interested in your Chicago exhibition and in your slide talk which you gave as one of the conference’s keynote speakers.  Since you did have that opportunity to explain your work to hundreds of printmakers just this past March, I wanted to instead focus more on your art career and the tough decisions that you may have had to make along the way.  Your artwork has certainly been influential for so many of our blog readers, so I am even more curious about how you managed your exhibitions along with your studio time.  I suspect that you are a role model to the majority of faculty and students alike that you have had contact with, as you are to me, after serving as a Visiting Artist at Millsaps College and generously telling me about some of your experiences as a professional artist.

For years, you taught at MICA, but gladly left academia for the possibility of making a living as a working artist.  Looking back on your time at MICA and based on the many conversations that you have had with professors and students as you have served as a Visiting Artist at countless institutions, what do we academic types tend to focus too much on?  And what not enough?

J.H.    Well, first of all, it’s an oversimplification to say that I gladly left academia.  In fact, I wasn’t entirely sure I was doing the right thing, but it’s true that my instincts were heading towards maximizing my time in the studio.

Now to the heart of your question:  When you teach art, you teach what can be put into words.  You teach what can be taught. What can’t be taught is what can’t be put into words, and that is so often what makes something good. Chris Hocking (Assistant Professor of Printmaking at the University of Georgia) once asked me “how come you don’t talk about the way you make the work?”  By this he meant the way that I paint as set apart from the ideas in the paintings. But I find that you can’t really talk about that because it is really both pre and trans-verbal.  Furthermore, it’s not so evident in reproduction which is what usually accompanies talks.

I’m very thorough when I teach studio art.  I bring a lot of art history, a lot of reading into the class and I encourage students to study.  I tell them: You don’t want to go to a doctor, or a lawyer or an architect who is trying to invent their field.  You need to know what the influences were in Eva Hesse’s work.  I encourage them to talk about art, as well as read about it, and to talk about what they have read—as a way of clarifying and detailing what the ideas are.  I realize this might sound like a conflict with the first point I made (about the importance of the missing non-verbal elements) but I also believe that language is a significant medium for how we think about art.  It’s not irrelevant to the task of becoming an artist—it is part of how we think.

Now, all of that said, you and I both know that some of the coolest stuff comes from someone who’s a little naive, but has soulful, work that is really connected to them.  I don’t exactly know how the teacher cultivates this. Robert Frost once said “Poetry is what gets lost in transition.”  It speaks to the anti-denotative side of art-making which is the harder part to put into words. We probably over emphasize the intellectual side of art because that can be developed, but there is something else you can’t teach.

Don’t forget that there are also these important teachers, like Albers was to Rauschenberg—that inspire because the student is prompted to develop in contradistinction to that point of view.

S.M.     Do you ever have a desire to return to academia?

J.H.     Yeah, I do.  When I go places as a Visiting Artist, I really get into it. Although it is difficult I think the experience of going into a room and seeing something you have never seen before and getting a handle on what it means to you and why is very challenging.  I always say to the students, use me, make me work for this. Don’t tell me what you are doing, see if I can figure it out and listen to what it is that I think I see—that is where you are getting something new from me. That is where, in effect, I am earning my money. I could easily be teaching again.  Of course, probably the ideal thing is to teach half time, or every other semester you know.

S.M.     You’ve mentioned that you didn’t have your first big NYC show until your late thirties, what were the obstacles that you faced up until that point?

J.H.    I had my first show in 1989 at Exit Art Gallery, I was 39.  The biggest obstacle to showing before that– was me. I didn’t feel ready.  For the first six or seven years of those years working, I was very engaged in my work and teaching. But I constantly had this feeling that the next thing will be so much better.  To some degree I still have it– just today I told someone “come in October, when I’ll have new work” in spite of the fact that there is work here right now.

I just wanted to keep moving forward and never felt like I had a body of work that obviously hung together as a group.  Another thing I did a lot of in those days was what we would now call “networking.”   I had studio visits.  I did a lot of that, at least once every two or so weeks.  I rarely do that anymore.  But we would have studio visits instead of doing other social things like going out to dinner.  It was social and it was an exchange of ideas.  You would tell one another what to read, what exhibits to see, etc.  This was a big part of my early years in the city.  I did have some dealers over starting in the mid eighties or so.

S.M.     How did you finally land that show?

J.H.    Both galleries (Exit Art in 1989 and fiction/non-fiction later in 1989) came from other artists volunteering to make that connection.  The first show came from Ursula von Rydingsvard who sent Exit Art to the studio. And the timing here was that Judy Pfaff had just given me a friendly talking to as to how I should just start showing already.  Marilyn Lerner got me my second show, at fiction/nonfiction.  Word goes out amongst your friends when you’re making interesting work.  I would say that once you get your work to a certain place sometimes people are eager to help you. Some critics came over to my studio, as well and they also networked with dealers in those days. This was all time consuming but not that hard because I lived in NYC.   I imagine that being in NYC in those years was somewhat similar to being in other large art centers like San Francisco or Chicago.  I realize this is not the only way to go about these things, but you asked about my own experience.

S.M.     Were you satisfied with the gallery you showed at and the review your work received?

J.H.   Yes!  Looking back on it, it was great to be showing at the same place as David Hammons and Ursula von Rydingsvard –they each had “breakout” shows with Exit—Ursula before me and David right after.  Exit Art was an alternative space, not a  commercial gallery and mine was a big show with 22 paintings. In the end I think it was a very good thing that I had a big NY show before I had a gallery—but I didn’t plan this nor could I have.  It happened because they made me an offer at the right time.  I was in the mix of things and starting to feel ready and to witness the affirmation of that sentiment by my fellow artists.  The Exit Art exhibition was reviewed in six places.  I don’t think I’ve had a show since then that has had so many reviews.  That most likely happened because I was new to the scene and largely unknown, because Exit had a burgeoning reputation and because it was such a large show.

S.M.     What did it take to gain a second and third show?  How aggressive did you have to be to perpetuate a constant exhibition schedule?

J.H.   I think I’m pretty aggressive actually.  What I’m actually saying is that I’m willing to admit to it.  But sometimes I think I’m not as aggressive as many other people are and I just have a low standard for it.  I am not really sure.  My boyfriend says I spend half my time hiding and half my time reaching out. He said it once joking but we both knew it was true.

You know, I tell people, you knock on doors A, B and C and then door W opens for you two years later. You can’t make the things happen that you want to happen.  But you can increase the likelihood of something happening by being active and engaged in the larger world around you.

Having a career is like having a fire.  First you have to get it started and then you have to tend it.  As everyone knows starting a fire is much more work. Sometimes I wise crack that for a woman artist it is like starting a fire with wet wood.  It can be done, but it is definitely harder.

The second show was in a commercial gallery and as I said Marilyn Lerner made that connection for me.  Jose Freire of fiction/non-fiction called me and came over to the studio based on her recommendation.  I stayed with this gallery for four shows. After the first two it changed its name to Jose Freire Fine Art—but it was the same gallery.  He was an amazing person.  He was a film major at NYU so he was very knowledgeable about visual culture.  He was hip and sophisticated and very, very sensitive and passionate about art. He was more interesting in the studio than most artists, by far.  The third gallery came from a writer friend, Josephina Ayerza, who hooked me up with another gallery, Luhring Augustine. I had a painting show there in 1997. In 2000, I joined Galerie Lelong where I have now had three shows.  It has a wonderful stable of artists and supports them in doing the work that they want to do.

One thing I’d like to say about this– trust your own instincts about when you are ready. As hard as it is to get people to your studio the first time, it is way harder to get them over again if you don’t wow them. When you actually have something special people start calling you. You can feel it turn.

S.M.     What sacrifices were you making at this early stage of your career?

J.H.   This is what I wanted to do.  Oh, you could say she hasn’t had children or that she spent most of her adult life in this urban environment – away from nature.  But I feel like a very lucky person.  There are not that many people who get to make art full time. I spend quite a lot of time doing what I want to do.

You know I always tell this story of when I left teaching and decided to try and live off my work.  I had been teaching for a decade, 1980 to 1990 in Baltimore—commuting back and forth from NYC.  It is not an easy commute.  I was teaching both art history and studio art so my day went from 8 in the morning ‘til 10 at night. It was kind of intense.  In 1989 I got 4 grants and I was in a show in Chicago in which the gallery burned to the ground.  I lost 14 paintings.  The insurance money plus the grants was almost $100,000. At the time, I didn’t even have a savings account. I had been thinking about quitting because things were happening in my career and I couldn’t be in NYC enough to do it all.  But, financially I was scared and didn’t want to put that pressure on my work. When the grants and the fire happened I knew it was a once in a lifetime thing. So I thought– I’ll jump now. I promised myself that I wouldn’t change anything about the way I lived so that I could always fall back.  I have no idea what will happen in the future, but it has worked out so far.

S.M.     It seems as though we all experience plateaus both in our art making and in    our careers.  Looking back, when were you able to move from this preliminary stage of exhibiting and progress towards becoming well recognized?

J.H.   You know, I just read about this photographer in the NY Times who has just had like six major successes happen all at the same time.  I’ve never really had that.  I have never been in the Whitney Biennial or any of these “breakout” shows.  I’ve never really had a paradigm shift; although the four grants did feel game-changing.  It’s been more of a steady accumulation of things.  In 2006-2008, I had a works on paper show that traveled to seven museums.  Between 2006 and 2009 I have had 12 museum shows in all, so this has been a very helpful and solidifying period for me.  At the same time, there have also been a number of articles written on my work.

S.M.     How many plateaus or stages do you feel your career has taken?  Can you point to certain events or exhibitions which projected your career forward at each of those stages?

J.H.    Sooner or later you have to have museum shows.  Otherwise, it’s sort of like the bloom is off the rose.  Recently, all of the attention that Fallen has received has been significant.

S.M.     Where are you now in the trajectory that you have laid out for yourself?

J.H.    I don’t have this completely worked out.  But I have a career because I wanted to have one.  No one ever gets one forced on them from the outside.  The question for me now is whether I want to be mostly involved with photography or painting and whether I have the energy to do both well.  I don’t know what will be in my future.   And right now there is a very nervous art world because of the economic downturn.  But I always make things that I want to make.  And I can work within my own means, so I’m not so worried about it.  But, yes, having a career can be quite time consuming and energy consuming. It may take as much time away from art making as having a teaching job does, in the final analysis.

Years ago Marina Abramowitz did a performance where she changed placed with a prostitute in Amsterdam.  The prostitute went to her opening and played the role of the exhibiting artist and Marina went and sat in one of those storefronts they have for prostitutes in Amsterdam on the night of her opening. I think it is interesting to think about a full time teaching artist and a full time exhibiting artist swapping. I think they each would learn from the other.

S.M.     Over the course of your career, are there some sacrifices that you wish you hadn’t made?  Or any choices that you might have modified with hindsight?

J.H.   Nothing completely springs to mind.  I’m kind of a forward thinking person.  I don’t think I’ve made any major mistakes.

S.M.     While you are widely recognized as an international artist, with exhibitions at so many of the most influential museums, do you still work just as hard today to “get your work out there” as you did before you were so well known?

J.H.   No, I probably worked harder in the beginning—it goes back to my fire analogy. One thing I do now, quite consistently, is when somebody does something nice for me, I try to do something in return.  When people are there for me, I am there for them.  I have a bit of a mafia – like sensibility and memory for reciprocity. This isn’t what you would call a job, but it takes time.

S.M.     What is your best advice for emerging artists?

J. H.   I’m old enough that this is a different world now.  Every artist is a part of the world in which they enter.  The last ten years have changed the art world more than the twenty before. There is globalization, but now, and I think more importantly, there is disintermediation –an effacement of the importance of the middle people.  The internet is changing the distribution of art, the making of art and the very ways in which we think about what art is.  So, of course, there are different ways to enter into the art world.  I recently saw a presentation of artists supported by Creative Capitol, young artists at the beginning of their careers. Not one of them had a studio.  They’re traveling around the world and making work that comes out of their interactions with other people in other places. I think that emerging artists should not look to me. They should look forward into the future.

S.M.     What suggestions do you have for folks who wish to function as professional artists outside of a supportive college or university?

J.H.   You have to figure out how to finance it.  I still don’t have a good handle on that.  You have to embrace an entrepreneurial spirit which is always a love/hate thing for artists.  With self-employment, you have to make up your job and then you have to do it. And it is lonely.  It’s wonderful to have colleagues, I wouldn’t put it down. Maybe the grass always seems greener.

S.M.     It’s a bit of an aside, but I feel compelled to ask, which contemporary artists do you find to be the most engaging?

J.H.  I really like David Hammons, and Judy Pfaff, and Bob Gober.  And I loved Elizabeth Murray’s work.  I like Polke a lot.  And I like John Wesley.  I love Jess. And Bruce Connor and Wallace Berman and George Herms and Wally Hedrick. I like Alfred Jensen. Cindy Sherman. I’m starting to fall in love with photography but my taste is still pretty unformed. Oh, Oyvind Fahlstrom—he is a favorite of mine. And John Cage, I’m a huge fan of him.  I love the early Peter Saul paintings. All the early hand-painted pop I’m crazy for. Smithson is fascinating. I saw this Francis Alys video the other day of a man pushing a block of ice down the street—it was wonderful.

Thank you so much Jane!  – Sandra