November 2011

Table Of Contents November 2011

Artists

8 Kelly Burgess 22 Division Leap 30 Sean Flood 44 Jake Waldron 44 Percy Fortini-Wright

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Founder/Editor-In-Chief

Darius Loftis

Art Director

Brianna Calello

Writing Editor

Claudia Puccio

Contributing Writers

Brianna Calello David D’Alessandro Kevin Hebb David Showalter Jr. Carina Wine

Marketing Pete Cosmos Darius Loftis

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Kelly Burgess

Interview by David Showalter Jr.

I usually make a post on Facebook to announce when I am going on an interview for my next feature. Fellow photographer, Paris Visone, made a perfectly applicable comment about my interviewee, Kelly Burgess. Paris so eloquently iterated in all capital letters to my Facebook friends: “KELLY IS THE SHIT!” Paris, my dear, I could not agree with you more. Kelly is kind-hearted, gracious, intelligent, and so much more. For someone who claims she is better at nonverbal communication which is expressed through her pictures, I found myself enraptured by her unique quirky/beautiful style, selfawareness, and the lovely, touching things she had to say about herself, her life, and her work as a photographer. Everything she said was articulated so well and made absolute sense of the work I viewed. I am proud to bring Abstraks readers an in-depth look at the life and artwork of Kelly Burgess.

DS: Why photography as opposed to other mediums?

KB: I can’t draw. [We laugh] It’s the truth.

more enjoyable for me to look around and take pictures of what I saw. In that respect I think the subject still plays an important role in what I photograph, but it’s an existing entity. It’s not something that I’m bringing to it.

DS: How did you get started doing what you do?

DS: What do you feel is your relationship with the subject?

KB: I’ve always been surrounded by photography. My Dad was a photographer. My Grandfather had a lot of cameras.

I was home-schooled eighth grade through twelfth grade.

I spent a lot of time on the internet. I taught myself web design and got into that kind of subculture of “young girl web designer” in the late 90’s, early 2000’s. A lot of them started getting into photography. I started looking at it more and then decided to do it. I got my first digital camera for Christmas in 2001. It was a crappy 1 Megapixel and I started taking it everywhere. Since then it started getting out of control and pretty much became my life.

DS: What is the significance of the subject to you?

KB: I used to spend a lot of time creating images. The subject would be everything. A photograph wasn’t something I was creating. I was also creating what was going on in it. I stopped doing that a couple years ago. I found it was much

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KB: Lately, I’ve been photographing more personal stuff. It’s a lot of my life; the day to day things that not necessarily go unnoticed, but are tiny snippets of life.

DS: What were your experiences like in school? How did your education shape and form you to be the artist you are today?

KB: I don’t know that home-schooling shaped a lot of what I do now. It was more of a shaping socially or lack of socially. I had really bad anxiety. It was not a good idea.

I got my GED in 2004. I went to community college for two years and [majored in] visual fine arts. At that point I was still figuring out what I wanted to do with my life. The first class I took was Photo 101. I started shooting film for the first time and fell in love. I predominantly shot film all throughout my college career. I’ve only recently switched

to digital. [I went to the Arts Institute of Boston for college.] I think AIB was helpful in terms of shaping how I talk about my work and think about it; both in the context of art as a larger whole between my contemporaries and [I] and what it means to me. I think that was super important.

That isn’t necessarily something I could have come to on my own. Whereas during my two years at Manchester Community College in Connecticut I was learning the more technical aspects. When I got to AIB I was able to focus on the conceptual side of things. It’s overflowed in my day to day life. I’m able to carry myself differently and be more confident about what I’m saying.

DS: On your website you mentioned taking time off after school. How did that affect you personally and professionally? Do you think it was a necessary decision?

object watcher?

KB: Both. I don’t photograph people as much as I used to.

I got tired of relying on other people to participate in my photography. At this point I’ve gone back [to] my roots.

I’m doing a lot of self-portraiture work. I’m a very reliable subject. A lot of my work is about my mental state at the time. Dealing with my body issues, my anxiety, or the things I’m worrying about have a direct physical relationship I’ve come to notice this past year. I was getting nose bleeds all the time. All the stress and the things I’m thinking about manifest themselves physically was interesting to me.

DS: That’s one thing I noticed as well. What’s up with your fascination with blood?

KB: Absolutely necessary. When I graduated from AIB in 2009 I had come from working on three to four projects simultaneously and constantly making things. By the time I was done, I was so tired. I was burnt out creatively. I needed to get away from it for a little while. I haven’t started taking pictures as frequently as I used to or as frequently as I would like; it’s hard to get back in there after you take a break. I’m more apt to take pictures that mean more to me now instead of shooting wildly to have prints to bring to school. I’m sitting down and making sure things I’m photographing are important. I’m more likely to use them in a project and less likely [to discard them] as an extra or something that doesn’t feed the whole.

KB: I’ve had a really crazy year and a half. I got hit by a car three times.

DS: In my perception, you seem to have very meticulous compositions; they’re very well put together. What is the process you implement and how do you come to the decisions you make?

KB: Last year I had a lot of weird health issues. All of that was manifesting itself and I decided to photograph it because it was part of my life. It was visually interesting to me and interesting in the sense that it was relating to my state of mind at the time. The more I worried about something; the more weight I would lose or the more my nose would bleed. Anxiety is something I’ve been struggling with for twenty years now. It’s part of my life. I’ve tried denying it for a long time, but I found out if I let it feed the work I’m doing, my work is stronger because of it. I’ve made myself vulnerable; making myself vulnerable seems to be working.

KB: I don’t spend a lot of time putting images together anymore. I much prefer to go about my day to day life and focus on things that are important to me. Taking a closer look at the smaller pieces of life in-stead of the larger whole is important to me. It keeps me grounded. In terms of process, I don’t know that I have a process. I look at things and carry around my camera with me. It’s just what I see. I’ll immediately be able to tell if it’s something interesting to me and I’ll stop and take a picture. I do a lot of looking.

DS: Would you consider yourself a people watcher or an

DS: Oh my!

KB: It happened last night. I was in New Hampshire.

DS: No wonder why you have anxiety. At any moment you could get hit by a car!

KB: Intersections are very tense for me now. [We laugh] DS: How do you feel about rotaries? [We laugh]

DS: I saw your curriculum vitae on your website.You are very involved in the scene and you’ve done a lot of work.

How has your work been received by others? What kind of involvement would you like to pursue?

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KB: I would love to have the opportunity to exhibit more.

This summer I got the opportunity to have a solo exhibition at a nightclub in Boston. It was really good for me to show by myself. I’m working on becoming more independent in the things I do. I try to get my work out there however I can. I look for opportunities I think I could add something. I’ve been toying with the idea of getting a collective going of local photographers to add more to what’s going on now. I want there to be more going on and I want there to be more of a community. Especially for emerging artists because it’s hard out there.

have my hand in other creative outlets, but photography is the one I’ve come back to and feel the most passionate about.

DS: In your biography you talked about feeling restless with your surroundings and moving a lot from place to place. How does where you are influence what you do?

DS: Both in general and artistically, what do you need?

KB: When I’m photographing I’m cataloguing my surroundings because I’m aware they will not be there at some point. I’ve moved thirteen times in my life, most of those in my childhood. Part of my restlessness is reflected in the work I’m doing because I’m starting to want to photograph the unknown. I want to go someplace else and I want to be exposed to things I haven’t seen and photograph those things. I think my production has slowed down a lot because I’m familiar with my surroundings.

I’m at odds with myself because I’m finally comfortable someplace. I’ve been in Boston for five years at this point.

I’m getting ready to go.

DS: Do you ever feel like you will get up and go?

KB:Yeah. I think I’m getting to that point. I think as time goes on I’m getting pushed in that direction.

DS: Define happiness.

KB: Being completely comfortable. Not worrying about anything. Being some place I love to be. Being with people I love to be [with]. Laughing, having a good time. Feeling like myself. Being comfortable with the people I’m with.

That makes me happy.

KB: I think I need to learn to make more time to do things I love. I spend so much time getting through things. I need to set aside time to do the things that I like to do. I need more vacations.

DS: What could you do without?

KB: I’m reluctant to say my anxiety because in the end it’s making me a stronger person to work through all of that.

I’m making work because of it and that’s good. I could have done without being home schooled. If I could go back in time I would change that. It’s the biggest regret I have. I didn’t have the capacity to think of the ramifications in the future. Knowing what I know now, I would have definitely gone to high school. I’m sure I would have ended up in a different place than I am now, but I think it would have made me feel better.

DS: What do you do well? Where is there room for improvement?

DS: Sounds like fun.

KB: Scary fun.

DS: Is photography the be-all, end-all? Are there other mediums you would like to explore?

KB: I’m drawn to photography for some reason. I haven’t really been able to pinpoint exactly what it is that draws me to it. I like the fact that it’s more “real”, like tangible things I’m taking pictures of. That speaks to my lack of interest in creating photographs rather than taking them. I would like to learn how to paint and draw better, but my interest doesn’t lie in creating something out of nothing. I

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KB: I definitely need to improve on being more outgoing in my photography. I’m very shy when I’m taking pictures.

I don’t like to draw attention to myself when I’m doing it.

I like to go unobserved. When I took pictures of people I would have to sit with them for the longest time until I got comfortable and I could cease to exist as a photographer. There are plenty of times when I’m out and about in the world and I want to take a picture of something, but I’m afraid to draw a lot of attention to myself. I think the image suffers because of that. I definitely need to work on losing that self-consciousness. I think I have a very good sense of color. I’m pretty good at knowing what colors go together and color a sense of mood. [It] feeds into a lot of

work I do. I’ve got much better at noticing my surroundings more and paying attention to the small details that may be overlooked. It helps me to slow down. I love to look at things. I like being able to show people what I see and what I feel. I’m not a particularly good communicator verbally. Making work is a good way for me to communicate with people.

DS: What would you like to say to the readers?

KB: Thanks. Most of all. That’s so important to me. I would still continue to make work if I didn’t have an audience.

It really means a lot to me to have other people want to talk to me about my work, to be able to connect to it, and enjoy it. That means so much to me. Don’t get so caught up in education. The work you do in school is important, but focus on growing yourself while you’re there too. That is very valuable to students. It’s so easy to get bogged down by all the work you’re doing and make work for the sake of making work. Really focus on what you’re doing. In short, love what you’re doing.

Contact Information: Email – kelburgess@gmail.com Websites – http://www.kelly-burgess.com http://www.snow-swept.com

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Division 20 Leap Interview by Brianna Calello

I’ve always been a daydreamer, as many artists seem to be. As kids we envision a future for ourselves that would make most anyone with a conservative conscience ‘politely smile’. We assumed that the world we imagined for our future selves would be completely tangible, no matter how far fetched.

Artist Ed Templeton explains this notion in Beautiful Losers stating, “I think as a child you’re always drawing, coloring, and doing crafts. And that is totally normal, and seems to be what you do as a kid. And I think what, kind of the weird tragedy is, you become an adult, you ‘grow up’ and lose that. You stop creating; you stop involving yourself in the joy of color and creation. I just feel like I was lucky enough to never really lose that.”

Somewhere along the way many people lose touch with that part of their selves, and focus instead on the banality of their daily lives; meanwhile the lucky ones, who understand the feeling that Templeton describes, are fortunate

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enough to continue to believe, even if they are a part of the ‘ninety-nine percent’.

I recently spent some time looking through artwork that I had created as a child. There was a comic book that stood out, and had I not taken the risk of packing up to move to New York a month ago, it would have slipped past my attention. My comic book was a near replica of a book that had been the end result of a performance piece exhibited at the Printed Matter New York Art Book fair- multicolor paper folded at the seam. I particularly enjoyed the irony that I had written myself to be a superhero in Manhattan.

There have been several times when I have had epiphanies, these feelings that this is what I was meant to be doing, and the places I find myself in are exactly where I am supposed to be. The New York Art Book fair was further proof of this feeling. I found myself working there

through various connections for a wonderful man named Marcus Campbell who sells rare artist’s books in London.

A true English gentleman, he was more than happy to teach me about the history of artist’s books and introduced me to ‘big wigs’ left and right, as if I were somebody.

For three days straight I felt a sense of comfort and reassurance in my new surroundings. It was during this time that I met a wonderful duo by the name of Division Leap.

Adam Davis and Kate Schafer run Division Leap, which they describe as, “A small gallery based in Portland, Oregon; a rare ephemera collector and dealer, with interest in artists who had something to say and generally produced the works with any means that they had available; a magazine publisher”. The two were at the fair to sell rare punk zines, various collectables, and the third issue of their annual publication under the same name. As a member of the Abstraks team, the Division Leap publication immediately drew my attention. I spoke with Kate a bit more about their background: Brianna: Can you talk about your aesthetic choice of putting the work unbound in a folder?

Kate: This is the first time we’ve done it in a folder. The first issue was traditional staple bound, the second issue we pasted the works into pre-existing books, and this year we used a folder so that it can be considered a traveling exhibition. It can be hung as individual works anywhere you like, or stay in tact as a publication. Eleven artists submitted work and each made either one hundred versions, or multiples of their submission, because of this each issue is slightly different.

Adam and Kate are absolutely wonderful and were kind enough to give me an issue of the magazine at the end of the fair. The Godfrey Irwin excerpt that had been posted behind them describes a division leap as, “ A long ride on the same train; from one division point to another, or beyond. Originated by the old yeggs who beat their way across the country in long jumps to out-distance pursuit… experienced tramps and hobos have been known to ‘hold down’ a certain ride for almost incredible distances, riding with no opportunity for rest or food, and in constant danger of detection or arrest, or of being so tired they will lose hold of the rod or trucks and so fall under the wheels.” Perhaps a division leap is anything you want it to be; the force that drives you to conquer all of the dreams you envisioned as a child, or a sense of comfort found when you take a step out of your comfort zone. Whatever your division leap may be, please be lucky enough to never lose it.

Contact Division Leap at 425 SE 3rd Ave #303 Portland, OR 97214 www.divisionleap.com Check out Marcus Campbell Art Books at http://www.marcuscampbell.co.uk/index.html Check out the Printed Matter Art Book fair at http://nyartbookfair.com/

Brianna: Wow! That is pretty amazing, do you plan to make every issue different?

Kate: It just happened that way, but we’re both really happy with this year’s layout.

Brianna: Division Leap seems pretty multi-faceted is this a full time commitment for you both?

Kate:Yeah it is, we plan to do more publishing- we have a lot of books in the works, mostly in our heads at the moment, and we want to work on the space a bit more. I am an artist as well.

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Sean 28 Flood Interview by Kevin Hebb

I miss Mr. Butch. If you knew him, you know exactly what I mean when I say there is a void in the city without him. It was always good to see him, to know he was around. It’s not sad, it’s concerning. To me, we seem to be running out of people like him. If you had to google Butchie, stop reading and go back to Connecticut. People with personality and refreshing points of view simply seem to be dying off.

Nowadays, all I seem to see are people trying way too ard to be shocking and cutting edge. Pants are still getting tighter, colors getting brighter and all the punks have given up.

The other night I was out for a bike ride with my friend Mike. All day we had been hearing about protesters going crazy and getting themselves arrested for demonstrating against the government. Awesome! We shot down to Atlantic Ave. in hopes of something on par with the riots in L.A.You know, something to reassure ourselves that punk isn’t dead and people still have a glimpse of fire left in their souls. False. Fucking, False! I guess it was my fault in expecting, or hoping, to see anything more than dank hippie college kids who were just there. No stance or evidence of intelligence, just there. Throw a rock, hit someone, break shit and do SOMETHING. “Fight the power” only works when you know exactly what you are fighting.

Anti-establishment rhetoric does nothing when there is nothing behind it and demanding one trillion dollars to plant trees is just fucking stupid. Sleeping in a tent on the sidewalk will not help your cause, it only makes you look naive. It is not the government’s fault that people bought shit they couldn’t afford. I have my money, I have my debt, I see no reason to get involved with this so-called movement. After talking with a woman and hearing about yoga being her passion and how she collects unemployment to pursue it, I decided I had had enough. We peddled on, through the haze of out of tuned cumbaya’s and stench of pachouli, left shaking our heads in wonder and amazement.

Fucking hippies...

We shot up Atlantic Ave., darting between cars and deserving any injuries that came our way. [And you do too.] Passed by the standard flocks of desperate-looking guys with elf shaped shoes and chunky whores trying their best to not fall out with their children sized dresses. Ahh, yes, Faneuil Hall - the black hole of downtown Boston.

Everyone down there matches by the group and say things like “Doing it big”. There was an interesting dichotomy in the people waiting for the bars and the groups of stoned

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hippies just down the street.Yet, all just there. There just to be in the crowd. What we saw was nothing like Thích Quang Durc and it was nothing that would excite Bill Cunningham. It was just another Thursday night in Boston and a reminder of why I usually stay home. “Mike, get me the fuck out of here!” “Head to the commons...”, Mike said.

After a couple near death occurrences, we rolled into the common. Unscathed and winded, we decided it as good of a time as ever to take a break. There is always hope for something rewarding in that common.

Whether it’s smiling families in the afternoon or drug crazed weirdos at night, there is always something that brings you back. Also, I have this habit. It’s not a good or bad one, but it is a habit I have become known for. I talk to strangers. Try it, but don’t ask a college kid anything, they don’t know anything they haven’t been instructed to read. Instead ask a question to someone who didn’t grow up using the internet. Myself included, don’t ask me for worldly advice, I probably don’t like you anyway. One of the most rewarding activities, in my opinion, is being given a completely unbiased outlook on your life from someone who could not care less about your reaction. That’s the good stuff - the honest exchange between two people.

Honesty is something people seem to run from these days. In running from it, people end up waiting in those lines to places they don’t want to be.

We left the park and shot down Newbury St. Channeling our inner teenage angst as we discussed life. “Mike, we weren’t THAT faggy when we were young, right?” I knew the answer to that before I finished the question. “Yea, but I think we grew out of it...” Mike said. The indecision in his voice was evident and presented with appreciation to the situation. Two 25 year old men, one wearing a Ninja Turtles tshirt, riding on bmx’s talking about being grown up. Hilarious. The irony was too much to not appreciate and was rewarded with laughter.

The laughter resonated and the energy of purposeful immaturity seemed to guide us past the vacant storefronts.

Real estate signs do little to offer possibility or even a hint of optimism anymore. Rather, these days, empty lots present the passerby with a story of what once was and could no longer be. Avoiding what could potentially have put a damper on our mood, we took the next right and cut through the alleys.

We were heading toward Kenmore when something caught my attention.

With a skid of my tire I yelled out, “Hold on, Mike, I need to check something out!” “You are going to talk to that hobo in the corner, aren’t you?” “You know me all too well..” We back tracked and headed down the alley. I don’t know why the possibility of getting stabbed never really crosses my mind. It very well could happen. It probably will. I made enough noise to let him know we were there.

And then, hold on, is that...? Yes, it was Sean Flood, and why wouldn’t it be?

“Sean?” “Oh, shit, what’s up man?” Did you ever notice how useless it is to question someone about why they are at the place you found them? Sean was posted up in a dimly lit alley painting. Instantly, his efforts made me feel dumb for spending my night yelling at people while riding a bike that is arguably too small for me. Sean, like Butch, is one of those people it’s always good to bump into. And tonight was no different. We sat and chatted for a while as Sean started blocking in a rough composition.

Have you ever noticed how people write about graffiti?

To certain crowds, graffiti writers are glorified and almost praised. And in many cases treated similar to serial killers.

Why is it that people think hanging out with Ted Bundy or Charles Manson would be a good time? Accepting what they are doing is wrong, yet pretending like they could hang out and get along with them. Is it because they read a book and somehow feel they can relate to them? Oh, word, you bought Banksy’s book and put up some stencils?

Let’s all be best friends. It has always bothered me that when the graffiti discussion is brought up, it is all people want to focus on. It is very easy to see where Sean’s influences come from. The bold mark making, movement, layering, medium, subject and execution of Sean’s paintings are derivative of graffiti. But, to limit Sean’s work to that of a graffiti writer would be an injustice.

Sean explains his process of painting to be rooted in a love of music. Even without being able to play an instrument, one can find something about a piece of music that moves them. Whether it is a Motorhead song that makes you drive like an asshole or that favorite Mariah Carey song that makes you say “Fuck that guy, I’m-ma get drunk and dance my ass off!”, there is an undeniable and fascinating effect that music has on all of us. Somewhere deep in

the swing of a jazz trumpet and the movements of a bass line over a hip hop drum beat, Sean finds his reason to react. Often not needing to know what the end result will be, but having the inclination of impulse and inherent need to tell his side of things is more than enough. His reaction to the impulsive nature of jazz is one of exclamation and the precision of a well-trained talent.

Modern art is riddled with assholes and often suffers from it’s own ideas and personalities behind it.You will never find a more impersonal and off-putting atmosphere than in a museum. Likewise, you would be hard pressed to find Sean in one. With everyone trying their best to rip off Kandinsky and De Kooning and play up lame “starving artist” stereotypes, it becomes very easy to laugh at. There is a feeling of refreshment when talking about art (or not talking about) with Sean. Sean’s “need” to paint has nothing to do with “being an artist”. No deeper meaning bullshit and no fancy photoshop filters. [Cliché warning] Sean paints for himself and for his friends. I know Sean as a humble and honest person and his middle-class upbringing has left an apparent imprint on his creative process and the way he conducts himself. There is a beauty behind the mindset of just getting some beer and painting until something starts to make sense. Sean paints. Sean paints better than you. He would say, humbly, that his progression can be attributed to his friends. He has aligned himself with a small group of friends for the last 15, or so, years.

It is rare to find friendships and bonds that last that long.

Rarer though, is the bond and sense of brotherly competition that made them all grow as a crew, and individuals, over the years. And nothing says “Fuck Nancy” better than that.

It is easy to lose track of time while discussing life and annoyances. When sitting in that dark alley behind Newbury, we did just that. Even Mike, who has almost no interest in anything art related, got wrapped up in a conversation about the common influences between graffiti and skateboarding. And isn’t that the best part of a night?

When you have an interesting talk in an unsuspecting place and you lose track of everything that was bothering you. True, we never quoted Dostoyevsky or examined political infrastructures. But, really, we never had to. I find the comfort in discourse, between two (or three) people, to often be the best evidence of a remaining sanity and offers a glimmer of hope that not everyone is completely full of shit. At this point, Mike was getting antsy and I felt

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we had distracted Sean long enough. We parted ways with Sean and he undoubtedly painted well into the night. We made our way back toward the greenway to get one last look at the scene. Still the same bullshit. This time, though, it didn’t seem to matter at all. We rode along with an eased outlook on things. The tension and resentment from the work day were now gone, exactly what every night should provide. The evidence of life that we were looking for from riotous protesters was actually found within a simple conversation in a dark alley. That night, we enjoyed a couple near death experiences and honest, unfiltered conversation while wearing sneakers and not having to pay a cover charge. I can’t say for certain, but I would think our night was better than yours.

Until next time: Get a bike, punch people, buy some of Sean’s paintings and email me photos of your breasts.

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Jake 38 Waldron Interview by Carina Wine

Jake Waldron will be the first to tell you he is not an artist.

“There is so much more to everyone then the one thing they do. To say ‘I’m an artist’ and that’s how I identify myself, cuts out so much else. I make art, I like making art, but if I were to say I’m an artist then that is all I would be.”

Jake and I are sitting in a small pub in Cambridge. Around us are hipsters with carefully calibrated clothes and haircuts. Jake is wearing a brown hoodie, a blue shirt, a brown utility kilt and brown leather versions of those shoes that have toes. I have seen a handful of people wearing the toe shoes but these are the first ones I’ve seen with their own calluses. The hipsters stare at his kilt.

Some people try really hard not to look like they give a fuck. Then there are those who actually do not give a fuck.

“I have absolutely no idea how to tell people what I do. I still don’t have a distinct idea of why I’m doing stuff.”

What this “stuff” is exactly is hard to categorize whether you are the artist or the observer.

“The art doll scene is full of middle aged women making little polymer clay fairies. Lame generic fairies. I stumbled onto a message board and found out there are people making doll versions of their kids who have died or moved away! Like your kid goes off to college so you buy a replica of him as an infant.”

Oh, god, yes- like those creepy Reborn dolls! Did you see the ones they did of baby Harry Potter?

“The Voldermot one was cool as hell. Neat more so then creepy.”

I found out that Jake and I were both fans of the New York artist The Sucklord. Sucklord epitomizes the success you can have when toys and dolls cross over to mainstream art. “Have you been watching Work of Art? The Sucklord just doesn’t give a fuck! I have seen interviews with him before and I’m pretty excited to see how this season pans out. He makes a living with bootleg toys. Toys can be artfully designed, and in the end they are just really awesome and exciting. New things are exciting things.”

Let’s talk about the things you make for a bit, Jake.

“I got into all of this from vinyl toys. I wanted to make some toys based on a narrative, like comic book style stuff, stuff that is fun to look at. I feel like I’m supposed to call them something, but that doesn’t really matter to me.”

“I don’t want to call them character sculptures, and they are not really creature sculptures or figures...” Jake trails off. I imagine this is a conversation he’s had many times in the past and still hasn’t figured out a satisfying answer.

Although Jake doesn’t know what exactly his art is, he knows what it is not.

I try a gentle prompt: “Well, tell me how you got into sculpture in the first place.”

“At first I said I was making art dolls, but I realized I was not doing myself any favors by telling people I was making art dolls. Most art dolls suck.”

Jake fires off a torrent of words. This is most time I’ve heard “shit” and “fuck” in an artist interview.

Hold on… what’s an art doll?

“Well like what you see in Art Doll Quarterly…”

Wait, what?

“Art Doll Quarterly. It’s a magazine about art dolls. Most of them are crap. I was super hesitant to get into the art doll scene.”

Um, ok, art doll scene… go on...

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“I originally applied to Art Institute of Boston because I was really into photo in high school. I did Alternate Process Photography. It is a neat mixture of photo and painting and printmaking: you make a homemade print, so each one ends up a little bit different. Before that I really enjoyed going out and taking pictures of things, but it sucked all the fun and joy of taking photos. Fine art photography bores the hell out of me.”

“So by the end of the first semester I was done taking pictures. I started doing pretty much everything but photo. I was took abstract art and drawing and it was a ridiculous waste of money! The professor told us to go buy expensive water color paper and then in class he wanted you to cover the whole paper with…LINES! Fuck! I spend twenty bucks on paper, and it’s a complete fucking waste and you wonder why I’m not into it! Fuck you!”

“I don’t like art for the most part, especially not highbrow fine art. I can run through a museum in five minutes. I would rather be out in the woods watching bugs walk.

Damien Hirst put a shark in formaldehyde. Well, that’s neat. But only because I like dead animals. I was really close to going into taxidermy for a while…”

Heh, that doesn’t surprise me for some reason.

“I didn’t start sculpting till a month before senior year. I skipped all the usual sculpture classes and just did senior studio stuff. It was crap and it didn’t work out at all for me. I’m still pretty bitter about it. The teachers had absolutely nothing to say to me. They didn’t even pretend to have anything to say!”

“Art schools are weird incestuous things … People go to grad school for art, and I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with them! Know what you what to do, and do it on your own! That is so much better than wasting so much time and money on school. If you have enough ambition and drive you can do it on your own.”

“I make neat things. That was my artist statement senior year! I’m making really exciting stuff and so I just want you to fucking enjoy it! Look at it, and have a good time!”

Jake graduated successfully in 2008 but was still unsatisfied.

“I made the mistake of going back home to Connecticut.

I lived with my family way out in the woods. When there were leaves on the trees, I couldn’t see my neighbors’ houses. It was a terrible idea because I was so bored, but I liked wandering in the woods. I was really close to my grandmother and when she passed I was not going to stick around.”

“I moved back to Boston in May. I was going crazy back

42 Abstraks November 2011

home. Now I live with four other people and work at the hardware store in Harvard Square. I have no problem working in a hardware store right now and doing this shit on the side.”

And we are back to what exactly is this “shit” or “stuff” that you do?, I say. Jake sighs.

I do not know why I am so eager to pin Jake down, but I am grateful that he seems more resigned then annoyed by my questions. Start by telling me how you make “them” then, I say.

“Well, I got into casting silicone, like special effects silicone. I sculpt the heads in clay then make a plaster or fiberglass mold. I then cast the silicone to make the head, and then do the hands and feet. Their eyes are resin. The hair is all individually punched in. I take a sewing needle and lay the hair individually so it looks like it grows out.

Silicone works well for a lot of things since it feels like skin and looks like skin. It is amazing and far easier to get a nice skin tone. Sometimes I do get into making them so realistic and believable that I let go some of the fun aspect.”

“I always start out with the heads. Then I build the armature for the body out of wire. I then take upholstery foam and put it over the armature, and carve the body shape from the foam. Over that I wrap it with polyester quilt batting. I know how to do this because my grandmother was a huge quilter. The batting smooths out the shape of the foam and I needle felt the batting into shape for the arms and legs. Then I take Lycra and sew that over the body, which gives me a nice surface to make the clothes on top of. I do know how to sew, I know how to make patterns. I worked at Joanne Fabrics for two years- I’m pretty crafty!”

Jake ran into some trouble when he made the decision to try and sell his creations.

“I just assumed people could grasp how much work goes into how they are made, but people have no idea. I made the mistake of trying to make money off of them way too early. I felt like I underpriced them like crazy just to get rid of them.”

In addition to finding a lack of connection with the

possible market for his art, Jake ran into even stronger internal barriers.

“I realized that I’d be churning out this shit and that’s all it would be! If this is all I was doing I would feel like a machine just to make money and live. I know that for some artists, making shit and selling it is their number one goal.

For me it would really quickly turn into just another job.”

them feel 100% authentic.”

“But I haven’t yet put a definite story on them yet. One thing I’ve been debating with myself for a while is if they live on this world or if they are from another world. Are they more like fairies where they live here, but we can’t see them? I haven’t found anything that I’m comfortable with yet.”

Although I’ve looked at photographs of Jake’s art online and seen shots on his Flickr stream, after talking about “them” for over an hour, I am ecstatic when he brings out a box containing an example of his work. The piece is a small bust, less then the size of my fist, infused with incredible detail. The silicone is exceptionally flesh-like except for it being cool to the touch.

So where do they live right now? Like physically, where do you show your art?

The ears are the size of my fingernail; tiny and perfectly formed. The head has the depth of real skin with washes of subtle color, and even age spots. I feel mildly invasive holding and scrutinizing a creature that looks like it does not even belong to this world. I am slightly startled when Jake casually pops an eye out of its fleshy socket. It feels like a violation when Jake offers up the resin eye for me to inspect.

Jake will tell you that he barely views himself as an artist.

During our conversation it becomes clear that he views the label as limiting, and Jake would rather be free to pursue life in a more open way.

“My number one inspiring movie in the world is The Dark Crystal. It is a fully contained world, fully realized and fleshed out. I love Brian Froud. I think all the best kid’s movies are ones that fucked with your head. Watership Down was one of them. Also, FernGully…”

Hold on. FernGully: The Last Rainforest? That movie fucked you up?!

“Oh yeah, Hexxus was terrifying.”

Huh. Well, I say, I can definitely see how the idea of a whole other world is present in your art. Your little guys look familiar enough with a head, two arms and two legs. Also, they are wearing clothes and jewelry, so that suggests they have a culture of their own.

“I try to make my shit believable in its own world. I don’t use fabric with prints. If I had unlimited time I would weave my own fabrics and do everything I can to make

“Right now they are in storage or hanging out in my room.

I am in one group show right now in Bridgeport, Connecticut.” (The Dark Carnival runs from October 27th November 30th at City Lights Gallery in Bridgeport, CT.)

“One of my biggest issues is a sense of freedom, in general and in life. I’d like to travel and find studio space as I go, making stuff and maybe giving it away. Giving experiences to people is so much better than making shit and selling it. It took me this long to believe this is possible. Making something that is exciting, that is a piece of a whole. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it yet but I would like to affect people’s lives somehow. I would like to do more than make art.”

Like what?

“I am totally into the personal development movement and lifestyle design. It is all about making a life with purpose and doing things that you enjoy. I would like to inspire people. I am a big fan of the books The 4-HourWorkweek and The Art of Non-Conformity. The authors live off of helping other people do what they do; helping other people make things in their lives happen.”

Ha ha… what? You mean like Tony Robbins and Oprah and The Secret, and all that bullshit?

Jake’s voice gets strange for just a moment.

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“There is definitely a stigma attached to self-help, I know.

The Secret is lame, Oprah is lame, but one of the best things you could ever do is to accept that your life is not what you want. To feel helpless is insane and just stupid.

Self-help is not about looking for faults so much as helping people overcome the ones they have identified. It is like adding magic to people’s life by showing them there is more to life then what they know.”

Oh. Shit, when you put it that way I feel like an asshole.

“Lifestyle design does sound like a scam if you have a cynical outlook on life! But it boils down to belief with action.

I would like to inspire people, and art is just a small part of that. I wouldn’t be surprised if somewhere down the line I am doing something else, and the art is just some neat quirk about me. That I make these ridiculous fucking things. I don’t want the life of an artist slaving away in a studio just to sell shit. I want to be doing something that matters, that helps people and inspires people and makes a difference in someone’s life.”

That would be inspiring to a lot of artists and regular people, I agree.

“Nothing happens without action. Wishing is not enough.

Acting on that wish is what makes it happen.”

I can see now why labeling himself an artist does not encompass the whole of what Jake wants to do. Jake Waldron is an individual who makes art and has a vision to inspire people. Jake is creative, profane, opinionated, crafty, and sincere.

I’m sorry, I say. That was awkward.

“Don’t worry about it”, Jake says. “I am the most awkward fucker around.”

November 2011 Abstraks 49

Percy 50 Fortini-Wrig Interview by David D’Alessandro

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Give It Light

To call Percy Fortini-Wright a graffiti artist is akin to saying Michael Jordan was a basketball player, or Wayne Gretzky was a hockey player. It might be accurate, but it is a woefully inadequate description. He has a terrifically diverse portfolio which contains very detailed cityscapes, murals, portraits, creative “hybrid alien” people, and more.

His graffiti and hip-hop influences are obvious, but a clear, traditional painting style adds depth, realism, and life to his works too.

I had the chance to talk to Fortini-Wright recently, and I asked him how he broke into the art world.

“It first came from my grandmother at a young age. She was a traditional water colorist. To see how she worked, it instilled in me that you could be an artist. That this could be a career. She made me think about it. If it wasn’t in the house or around it’s harder to think about it.

Also, my mother’s best friend was an early 80’s graffiti artist. He’s a D.J. as well, and it inspired me to get into graffiti at a young age. Both of those two people, those polarities, seeing traditional versus being involved in the hip-hop, graffiti culture really influenced my look.”

A perfect example of this dual style is on display in his cityscape works. In a painting entitled, “the apocalypse of scripts instillation”, Percy displays a sprawling Brooklynesque city scene with rundown brick apartment buildings, seemingly leaning on each other for support, and stretching off to the horizon. On the far left panel, a man in a gas mask poses with his arms crossed daring you to spend some time in this neighborhood. This painting covers three panels, and has a decisively urban graffiti feel. However, the fine lines and exquisite detail show off Fortini-Wright’s traditional skill as well.

Fortini-Wright is based in Boston, and many of his cityscapes are clearly local (the Citgo sign makes an appearance in a few). However, Percy claims that many of the portrayed locations of these paintings are only found inside his head.

“A lot of them are from my imagination, inspired by hip-hop and cities. If it’s a good cityscape, people all over the world should be able to recognize it. I like night scenes too. The artificial glow of the buildings at night, I

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like the glow it takes on. It reminds me of being in space.

The little show of light is a feeling of comfort. If you’re in a night environment and you see a light, you kinda want to know what’s going on. That effect gets captured really well with spray-paint. I doubt I would be doing night scenes if I didn’t work with spray-paint. I really like urban culture a lot too, so that has a big play in it too. I like the light on the dark background.

I make boxes, and then add details, and those boxes become buildings. I start drawing a bunch of boxes and add vanishing points, and then add more length to them and they take on a life of their own. The thing I like the most about cityscapes is how much depth you can add to them. I like how cityscapes create this vast space that leads your eyes to a distant point. That’s why I like them the most because they create the greatest depth.”

Percy has an entire collection of masked men similar to the one found in “the apocalypse of scripts.”

These paintings take on a very real, but also deeply symbolic role for him.

“I was using the motifs of the mask a lot. It takes on a lot of meanings. You know, what masks can mean as alter egos. Obviously protection, and the way the world is going. The Fukushima plant, constantly spraying shit in the air. You better have a mother-fucking mask on. So it kinda gives an apocalyptic sense to it. Put your mask on, you’re gonna need to breath. Also, graffiti artists also wear masks. It’s for ambiguity, but also for protection from fumes. On the other level, I use it as a symbol of hiding behind the mask. The artwork is always seen but the person remains anonymous, just like graffiti artists.”

However, Percy is not only influenced by his grandmother and the graffiti culture. In fact, the incredible diversity of cultures throughout the world plays a big part in his work.

“Later on [in my life] nature, and indigenous cultures had a huge impact on me. I worked with a lot of indigenous cultures and saw how close they were to nature. These cave-like warriors. I try to get a lot of that involved with me. I try not to just use graffiti as an urban thing. Graffiti derives from war paint and tribal paintings.

A lot of cultures around the world are inspired by nature.

I’ve always studied animals. A lot of books in grad school made me want to investigate the biodiversity we have on this planet. Being multiracial I wanted to look at this crazy diversity we have. The fact that we live in this crazy place together, I think a lot of people take it for granted. I love the diversity.”

Percy’s animal paintings display this love of nature.

In “everything is about to change”, Fortini-Wright gives us a tiger’s eye that seems to look into your soul. It’s a dirty picture, with drips and a white mist across the top, which gives you a sense of being hunted in the jungle. In this painting, the artist’s combined skill dazzles. However, it is in his hybrid alien people that, I feel, truly captures who Percy is, both as a person and an artist.

“I’m really into humans, I like people. Definitely into being a human! I’m a people person. I like the different characters and personalities people have. I started drawing them ‘cause they were imbedded into being a graffiti person. I try to keep them very universal as well. I

November 2011 Abstraks 56

like to keep them very colorful, very much cultural. Kinda like making a new human. I like the way that feels. It’s like having a little kid without the responsibility. It takes on some, but nothing like have a real human.”

Percy’s “humans” take on a very elongated sci-fi look, yet they always seem to be in motion and awaiting an encounter. They appear to be the external representation of our own insecurities. I want to walk up to each and every one, introduce myself, and ask him/her (it) what’s on its mind. When I asked Percy if these paintings had any self-portraiture about them, he said:

“Yes I definitely think so. I’ve been doing them for a while. They had a little bit of a hip-hop character when I started. The more I worked on them the more they became lifelike. They became almost what I wanted to be become.

They take on a different personality as I work on them.

They show the amount of emotions people go through in the day. As I work on a different part of the face or body, they take on an attitude of what I’m feeling like then.

Now they’re starting to take on a species of their own.

An archetype of myself…my twelve apostles…my past lives. Or, if I was a god and I was to create a race of creatures this what they would look like. They are the most self-expressive [of my work] probably.”

Percy Fortini-Wright’s work is beautiful. He captures the essence of existence. We are all here, stuck together, and dependent on one another. Whether we experience nature, imagine cities, or wish to encounter ourselves, he paints the picture. However, this is only a small sample of Percy’s work. His other work includes, murals, portraits, auras, and graffiti tags. One thing is for sure, Percy, and his art, is interesting, personable, and fascinating.

“Being multi-racial, I was always looking for some type of cultural identity. I feel like hip-hop, that whole culture, has a unity to it. Take all these cultures and combine them to create one thing. I just loved the energy it had.

It has this energy that feels like the whole planet. Graffiti was the artistic version of that language. Hip-hop can be rhyming or mean nothing. Graffiti was the artistic articulation of angles. The words had no meaning, but the colors and angles gave it articulation, gave it light.”

The energy that the world has? Well, Percy gave it light, but also so much more.

He will be showcased at Lot F Gallery on 11-11-11 (until December 2).

November 2011 Abstraks 61