It’s difficult to reconcile my influences and interests as an artist. I know this is common for most creatives, but I think there’s a particularly unusual kind of dissonance that comes with being raised exclusively in a fairly rural Midwestern setting, followed by an adult life that attempts to make work that can exist outside that small box. The roots are undeniably there, and I love them. But the world asks for a wider lens, and I love that too.
As an MFA student many moons ago, I opened my eyes to the world of Art (capital A intentional) and drank it in. In the 1990s I learned about painters, photographers and installation artists who crossed cultures and used context as an intentionally fluid element of their work. It’s unavoidable, and I still believe that it’s a sin to call yourself an artist without making sincere ongoing efforts to understand the contemporary art world. You don’t have to love everything, but you need to know what’s been done and how that creates an ever-changing history in which your work has to play.
So back to that Midwestern thing. Growing up, I had experiences that were similar to a lot of my peers around here, and that includes being raised in car culture. You know, being a Car Guy. I read Hot Rod magazine, drew pictures of muscle cars, and couldn’t wait to get my first ride. The noise, the smells, the whole idea of driving something powerful…it was a thing. And it still is. As a 47-year-old, I still love automotive culture and I still love driving and working on cool cars.
At a certain point, I honestly (maybe not consciously) tried to sort of hide or minimize this element of my life, mostly because it didn’t seem to square with the attempt to become an Artist. My art world idols were on the coasts or overseas, and their obvious interests were very non-automotive. Many of the people I saw (and still see) as peers had no connection to automobiles at all, often because of where they grew up. I wanted to be one of them. I needed to be the Guy Who Listened to Indie Rock or the Guy Who Knew What Postmodernism Was in order to fit that role.
I’m still those guys. I’m all those guys. Including Car Guy. Which is fine, I’ve realized. Even if it makes me feel out of place at car meets or on car forums sometimes.
So, how does it play into the work? That’s the hardest part, even once the aforementioned reconciliation has happened. I know people who are Car Guys and also make art, but pretty much 99.9% of them make the stereotypical kind of stuff: paintings of cars. Shiny chrome. You know, the stuff that you see cheap reproductions of in craft stores, in the “man stuff” section. Boring.
Over the past few years, I’ve tried to accept the fact that it’s a part of me; it’s in my brain, and therefore it’s going to find its way into my studio work if I’m being authentic. It sometimes involves using recognizable imagery that comes from hot rod culture, but hopefully in a way that’s less cliche. I appropriate icons and images and recontextualize them, and I don’t know if it always works as well as it could. But it’s going to continue, off and on. It may make some of my work less relatable to an audience without that background or influence, like many of my Instagram followers, for example. But it’s a tradeoff I can make. I’m throwing all kinds of stuff into the mix when I make something, and that’s just one part of it.
One thing I know for sure is I’m not interested in being known as the Guy Who Uses Car Stuff in His Work. I use a variety of imagery and influences, and that’s definitely one of them. Anyone who follows my work will respond to some of it, but not all of it. And anyone who starts following me because of car-related posts on Instagram or wherever will eventually be turned off or at least confused by the other stuff. It’s just being a multi-dimensional human, I hope. Leftist politics, contemporary painting, indie rock, and horsepower. My Midwestern mantra.
