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218 (arpln), 2014, acrylic & graphite on linen over wood, 32 x 40 inches |
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225, 2014, acrylic & graphite on linen, wood, collage, 40 x 30 inches |
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197 (dccch), 2012, acrylic & graphite, linen, wood, 25 x 15 inches |
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Beginning with this photo and those that follow is a sequence showing various steps in the making of the painting shown at the top of this post: 218 (arpin).
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The marble tiles in the center are used for weight while the glued panel is drying. |
Exactitude is how I describe the working sensibility of Ken Weathersby. His paintings are finely crafted and highly visual, yet they also carry a complex narrative. It's clear that he thinks about the whole work, back and front, along with it's internal space and the space it occupies externally. Weathersby's process is something I've always been interested in, and in the following interview, he really opened up and explained things in detail.
PB: What I like about your paintings is the fact that so much consideration has been put into each one. There’s an optic buzz on the surface, but there’s also plenty of curiosity generated by the framework/support structure. Tell me about the aesthetic decision making that goes into your pieces.
PB: What I like about your paintings is the fact that so much consideration has been put into each one. There’s an optic buzz on the surface, but there’s also plenty of curiosity generated by the framework/support structure. Tell me about the aesthetic decision making that goes into your pieces.
KW: Well, I would
say that each piece starts with some simple notion that comes from… not sure
where, actually. There is a certain territory that I’ve been involved in for
eight or nine years, to do with reshuffling the given parts of painting. By
“given parts” I mean the wooden stretcher, the canvas or linen, the paint film,
staples or hardware—the things paintings are generally made of. I’m always
looking for a kind of de-stabilization of what those parts normally do. It’s a
process of looking for a way to open up a space where I could work with the
usual ingredients, but to different ends from what I think of as “regular
painting.”
So these little ideas come and each piece would be its
own idea. I could be watching a film or going to sleep and get the sense of “I
want to see a painting with two backs and no front” or whatever, and that comes
to me with an image, which I quickly sketch, to remember to work it out later.
Then it’s a matter of engineering the structure along with the visual
considerations of working that out. The working it out part sometimes takes
weeks for each piece, with lots of working sketches and different processes, and
I make up my own self-taught ways of doing things.
Lately it’s been a little different, though. The main
difference is that I am interacting with found things, collage elements, and
inserting them into that situation of abstract, physical and structural stuff. With
the collage pieces, sometimes an idea comes from a moment of seeing things
together in the studio, noticing possible juxtapositions. Mainly the collage
cuttings are images from art history (I’m cutting up old books). The images are
usually reproduced photographs of figurative sculpture, whole figures. They are
injected into the painting, but also stand outside of the retinal abstraction
areas in the painting and look on and gesture. They are kind of re-enacting or
anticipating—or in any event participating in and complicating my experience of
looking into possible relationships within painting.
PB: How do you go
about working in the studio; do you have to strike a balance between painting
and constructing?
KW: I think of it
all as painting, whether I’m hammering nails or cutting wood or using a brush. I
go to the studio just about every day, and thankfully just returning to the
space helps me remember how I am engaging with whatever painting process is
going on. I always seem to get myself into very complicated situations of layering
and gluing and constructing. It seems the building of the panel, or layering of
wooden grids, always has to happen in a certain order in relation to building
up the painted area, or cutting through to insert some object or image. The
sequence has to be right for very basic reasons of what will logically work and
hold together and not lose the sense of what I’m trying to do. I think my
primary tendency to work on a single piece at a time helps to make this
manageable. The process always changes, it’s always different. I will say I
envy painters who use basically the same process every time and don’t have to
worry about that sort of thing, but if I am truthful, there is something in me
that is drawn to making things different every time, that have to be figured out
anew with each piece. I have claimed that if there was an easier way I’d take
it, but apparently the difficulty is connected with what the work is about, and
maybe I’m less interested in the easier way.
PB: As far as other
artists are concerned, past and present, whose work has influenced or impacted
you?
KW: I’ve always loved
the early Renaissance Sienese painting. The John the Baptist cycle by Giovanni
di Paolo at the Art Institute of Chicago was pivotal for me at a certain time.
I was very fortunate to study with George Ortman when I
was a graduate student at Cranbrook. After I finished the MFA, there were years
of me painting on my own before I saw the influence of his constructions in my paintings,
but I continue to be interested in his work, and we remain friends.
There are friends and contemporaries, but I don’t want to
risk leaving people out...
Actually I get a lot of impetus to work from watching
film. My wife Michele Alpern (also an artist) and I watch films together,
thanks to her constant and discerning tracking of what’s worth seeing and
playing in NYC each week. We also go to
the NY Film Festival every year, and fill in the gaps with things on disk if
it’s the only way we can get them. Great films make me want to do my work.
Jean-Luc Godard’s 2014 “Goodbye to Language” affected me as much as anything I
saw recently in any gallery.
PB: What are some art books that you can’t do without?
KW: I used to be
addicted to buying art books, to the point where we needed more and more
bookshelves, and it was costing a lot. In the last few years though, I guess
because images of anything are so easily and instantly accessible online, my
book addiction has tapered off. Lately I
only seem to covet books that are compelling and irreplaceable objects. Michele
got me an amazing book recently about Czech modernist puppet theater,
beautiful. Amazing images, a subject I
didn’t know, and a beautifully designed book. I have
Chris Ware’s Building Stories on my studio table. I’m a big fan of the way he
messes with the physical form of the graphic novel.
PB: What’s coming
up in the near future for your work?
KW:
This spring I will be in a four person show at Odetta gallery in
Brooklyn, NY, called Textual, with
Elana Herzog, Annette Cords and Leonardo Benzant. Also in the spring I’ll be in the group show Therely Bare (Redux), which will open in
Leiden, The Netherlands, and travel to be a part of Arts Athina and possibly
other stops after that. Later in 2015, I will be in a two person show at Key
Projects in NY, with the artist Li Trincere.
A few other things, but those are foremost right now.
Also coming up, lots of time in the studio!
Also coming up, lots of time in the studio!
kenweathersby.com