july/issue 11 by FORGET GOOD

July Birthday Issue # 11

Big thanks to all participating artists! Editor in Chief: Kylie Gava Managing Editor & Designer: Tara Mahadevan Feature Interview: Kylie Gava Interview Edits: Laura Stamm & Stephanie Haines To be considered for our next issue, please visit our website www.forget-good.com Cover: Fig Pink by Valerie Brennan

Gregory Ito 4

Sean Pearson 10

Lauren Clay 16

Brian Michael Dunn 20

Valerie Brennan 26

Evan Nesbit 32

Robert Hurlburt 38

Jake Kent 44

Kiki Hunt 52

Clare Grill 58

Gregory Ito When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? It seems as if I always have some sort of minor injury, mostly due to fabricating objects or construction. Hammers meeting flesh, and nerves meeting creative gestures of building something. But in the whirlwind of a world we live in. I find myself physically affected by lack of sleep, and my lack of sleep is due to the lack of time I feel in general circumstances. So little time to do, make, and see the things I would like to experience. It’s not so much about the last time I was hurt, but the time that this hurt continues to last. How does one conclude their relationship with time and the time that they are given to wish, dream, and hope to accomplish in life, in their life. Their only life? As dark as a black hole and as blindingly bright as the sun, their extremes are representative of my want for sleep and rest, which will eventually find me in my ending moments.

Describe the perfect cake. A cake that is not just a cake but a cake that is many things and can shift between ideas of what a cake can become, represent, or give. An amoeba of desires that can change from it’s own will and guidance. One that can stand the flow of time and defeat its destiny as a perishable object dedicated to being consumed and forgotten. The perfect cake is no longer perfect, and will never be perfect, but will follow it’s own path, without prerequisite ideas of it’s form or function into a realm of uncertainty and endless ending of new beginnings.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? The main question is why. Why would I use one color over another color? Why would one color become more important than others in a situation of dire circumstances in which I must choose one and only one? Why would I continue to make work knowing that I can only experience one color an infinite amount of times? Would one color hold the power to continue my investigation with the world as a maker? If the initial question were to arise, then these questions will follow, and I cannot say for sure which color I would choose, or if I would choose one at all. It is questions like these that pain me and make me realize the importance of my relationship to the spectrum of opportunities of color that light provides. I hope I will never have to face a situation like this one.

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? As it is an inescapable truth that my work is a bi-product of my experiences with the world. I would say yes, it is inherently a self-portrait or a portrait of my self-awareness or curiosity. The works I produce are physical investigations of my relationship with my surroundings and very often, personal ephemera is included to manifest a breadth of possibilities of personal, intimate, and sincere dialogues with the objects, images, and media I use in my practice. I have made works that were titled Self Portraits, but then it became clear that everything I produce in the studio is a fragment, glance, or shimmer into my operations as a maker and viewer - but foremost, a human being. I then disposed my inclinations to title a work Self Portrait, knowing that it could change in the future. At the end of a day’s work in the studio, I make things for myself, keeping in mind the excitement and joy of sharing my work with the public, other artists, and art enthusiasts. Sharing your work is a gesture of sincerity and sacrifice, and to share your work with others is very much like sharing yourself, with your community and into the vast expanse of individuals that populate this world, which can seem daunting. My work as a portrait of my multiple relationships with the world? Yes. And my work as a bi-product of my self-awareness to the collective consciousness and perceptions of today’s cultural climate? Yes. I am my work and without my work, my ideals of self and individuality begin to dissipate.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? In the past, I primarily made meticulous paintings that I found much pleasure in making because of the techniques and materials that I honed and honored. However, it evolved into a finite relationship with the work in which I would propose an idea and then execute it, producing a product - an end result, an answer to a question or challenge that I faced. By the end of an experience with a painting, the surface would be soaked in my presence and it would be done, finished, complete. But I had more questions for myself in the studio, and I wanted to face questions without answers and keep a spirit of freedom in approaches to my practice. Working sculpturally opened avenues of discovery that I never had before. Using consumer objects, personal ephemera, and ready-mades, I was able to explore possibilities without the restriction to one surface. Even though my relationship with the surface is a complicated one, I still cherish it, knowing it is the foundation for my life as an artist. Now when I work, I’ll reach a point where I feel comfortable in my investigation with a piece. It’s always hard to say when something is finished, but there is a moment when I reach a state of content with the work. Many times, I go back to a piece and play around with new perspectives that I had not yet realized, but there are some works that I don’t revisit and they continue to exist as they were the last time I encountered them. Like the perfect cake, I will allow my work to become imperfect, shifting and changing as it wishes. The cake is perfectly imperfect, and a rebirth with one’s work is a humbling gesture of accepting change in the relentless struggle against time we all face.

Untitled (Tendencies)

Installation View

:0 (JENGA!)

Untitled (Flaming Hot)

Untitled (Barrelled)

Sean Pearson When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? About three days ago, I pulled a muscle in my back and now I’m stiffer than a two-by-four. I work as an art handler, so I’m well aware of the proper way to lift a heavy object, but this happened just from lifting a stupid moving box with my back and not my knees.

Describe the perfect cake. Wrapped in burlap, iced with plaster, with a tire tread across the middle.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? Olive-drab faded until it’s nice and pale with some of the original color still showing. I like diluted, low-saturated colors; they give an object a sense of history. Fading is something that happens naturally, so it’s exciting to see an interesting color come about from a process that you only have so much control over (as opposed to choosing a color and knowing the outcome).

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? It’s more of a reflection of the way I live and my interests.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? Usually when it looks like it could function. I’ll work more on a piece if its form is weak.

Motรถr

Radiation Belt

Seed Vault — Barter Töwn

Code of the Road

Barter Tรถwn

Lauren Clay When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? As clumsy and absent-minded as I can be, it’s amazing that I don’t get hurt more often. I manage to remain pretty intact... but my fingers have seen some rough moments. A month or so ago, I was trimming a huge sheet of paper with a ruler, and a utility knife. One poor little finger just happened to be hanging over the edge of the ruler and I sliced right through it. I watched in slow motion as a huge chunk of my finger rolled across the paper. Eeek.

Describe the perfect cake. Alternating layers of Haribo gummies, kittens, lemon icing, and marzipan, covered in that huge Monet, Waterlilly painting that’s at MoMA.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? White because it can so subtly take on so many other hues. Also, I value white’s ability to subtly hold its ground. Or blue, because there is an entire spectrum of blues within that hue.

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? No. If anything, my work is often an attempt to escape myself.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? A piece is finished when it can stand on its own. Sometimes this means that it takes on the quality of something outside of myself-- it becomes autonomous and independent. Other times, this means that something shifts within the work. Suddenly, something that was previously unknown is discovered or stumbled upon. Usually for me, this feeling does not go away. I almost never make changes to a piece once this occurs.

Archaic Tryst

Impart Impasse

Curandero

Sukias

de Kooning, un Kooning, re Kooning

Psychonaut/Quagmire

Brian Michael Dunn When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? I sliced a good chunk of my left index finger off last year trying to cut paper on little sleep and lots of coffee.

Describe the perfect cake. Hoecake.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? White on white.

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? No! If anything, it’s like a mirror pointing back to the person looking at it.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? I guess I know a piece is finished when it’s doing what I set out for it to do, or when it’s at least doing something. It needs to have a certain tension. Sometimes they sit around for months, though, before reaching that point. More and more, I’m leaving things be once I’ve decided that they’re finished. If there are parts that begin to bug me, or that might need to be done differently. I just put that into the next piece.

Rago-Olga

Open Sez Me

Tarp

Valerie Brennan When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? My son was born 3 years ago - that hurt.

Describe the perfect cake. Next week is said son’s birthday. It will be my first cake-making attempt. It’s going to be a chocolate angry bird cake…so my perfect cake needs to be easy to make.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? Pink. Pink is about flowers, flesh, sex, disease, poison; it is punk; it is orient and occident. Now that I am writing this, I am also thinking black……

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? Yes.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? That’s exactly how I usually know if a piece is finished - when I don’t need to go back to fix or edit something. I try to push each painting as far as possible, to go beyond where others have taken me, to find something new in each one. Sometimes I need time to just sit with a piece. I have of course made the mistake of prematurely thinking something is done when, in fact, it isn’t. I ask myself: is this it? Can this painting stand for you?

Fig Pink

Oh My Goth

Sheepish

Flesh & Bone

The Beast Below

Evan Nesbit When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? I was making some garden boxes for my veggies a few weeks ago. I was stapling wire mesh to the bottom of the boxes to keep the gophers out and I gave myself a nasty blister between my thumb and index finger.

Describe the perfect cake. It would look and taste a lot like pumpkin pie.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? Green. It is already a color that I use to do a lot of the heavy lifting in the work. It’s smooth and unsettling at the same time. It’s also one of the colors that I eat the most.

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? No, I don’t think so.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? My process usually helps with that a lot, but I will work until my eyes become curious to the point that I stop painting and keep looking. I’ll only work back and edit paintings once and a while. I try to make it work the first time.

Porosity (BLK/YLO)

Fingered

Fingered Study

Spoiled

Porosity (Pink)

Robert Hurlburt When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? I was really excited to give the dress in the Tiger Interior to my aunt Robin, so I was leaping around my house to go get it and my knee went right into my chest of drawers. It is still a little sore. She loved it, though, and got some Charlotte Olympia pumps with little peach fluffy poodles on them to match. They were like Miss Piggy hooker shoes, and they were perfect.

Describe the perfect cake. I love those My Little Pony cakes with ponies playing on a grass with a realistic gel icing waterfall and little flowers. I bet they taste horrible.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? I would use only pink because it has this inherent kitsch and happiness and girliness to it, which I find cool. But, I would kind of hate to do that because it seems so unbalanced.

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? I guess my work is a self-portrait in the sense that it is a portrait of these chic imaginary characters I have in my head.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? Usually most of my work is pretty overdone as it is, so it is just a matter of stopping myself and redirecting my focus onto my next idea. I think that stems from my childhood fear of being boring.

Tiki Camouflaged Bachelorette Pad

Lilâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; Kim Meets Dr. Seuss

Barbie Garden

Tiger Interior

Kawaii Tweens

Jake Kent When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? I’m always falling off my skateboard, but only when I’m doing the simplest stuff. I tend to hurt myself the most just riding down hills, going from spot to spot. I live in Nottingham in the UK and there are loads of great hills to bomb down. However, that combined with my lack of attention usually means I hit a crack or a stone and inevitably eat shit... During the worst and most recent one, I hit fat twig on the way to work and bruised my hands and shredded my knees; my boss saw the funny side at least. I’m gonna go out and do just that when I’ve finished these questions.

Describe the perfect cake. I’d be happy with anything from the Berlin cupcake shop, preceded by a burger from Yoyo’s around the corner. (note: it is also essential to share such an activity with old and/or new friends) Anyone going to Berlin should eat vegan delights at both places.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? I wouldn’t be able to make work with just one colour. I’ve got too many things floating around in my head, like flies around a spilled slush puppy, to be able to restrict myself to just one colour.

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? No, I put a lot of myself into the work, though - often subconsciously. By myself, I mean my experiences, my humour, places and faces I’ve seen, my politics, etc. Some of my works talk about subcultures and countercultures and their importance. A lot of my influences are first hand: skateboarding with friends in Germany, touring and playing punk shows in squats, and meeting great people, etc. I’m always distracting myself with new things to make work about, too many stupid ideas to list...

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? Nothing is finished until it’s destroyed. Or if someone buys something, that would make it pretty dead. I get bored with works quickly, so I tend to hide them once I’ve shown them or documented them. A work feels finished to some extent when it’s in an exhibition. The next time I show the same work, it might be a variation on the previous version.

Pink And Blue Is In

Kill Your Inner Cop

Reflexive Impotence

Hanging Out In The Paris Of America

Posters

Kiki Hunt When was the last time you were physically hurt? Doing what/what was the injury? I have cornrows right now and the lady who did my braids made them really tight and it gave me a rash on my hairline. You can’t see it, but I can feel it with my fingers.

Describe the perfect cake. My mom makes this cake that is in the shape of a lamb; it is really cute. She covers it in white frosting with coconut flakes and ties a little bow around its neck.

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why? Pink because it is fleshy, of the body, and also seductive (or connotes certain types of seduction). I could probably rock brown for the same reasons...like skin, scat, and chocolate sauce.

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? I use my own body a lot in my work, but it’s clearly about the body, not about my image. If anything, I’m trying to talk about the tension between the potential to experience a multiple consciousness or human history in the same body, with which we so intensely experience a self and personal history. In this sense, it tends to be a lot more about the disorganization of self than the unification of one.

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and fix or edit things? There are certain qualities I look for in images I make. I don’t always know until I see it but generally, I want to make images that are really magnetic and mythical. When I hit it, I know. When I don’t I wait and usually get some insight later on (but sometimes I never do), I just try to work through the same concerns in a new piece.

Expel

Stafph

Poison

Protejion

Clare Grill KG

Would you like to introduce yourself?

CG Hi I’m Clare Grill. I’m from Western Springs (suburb of Chicago) but I’ve lived in Queens, NY, for the past 10 years. I work at home in my studi here.

at the same time. I think I have somewhat of a resistance to things feeling or looking formulaic. If a painting is not happening, I’ll turn it around or sand it away to see what’s there and start painting on it again, rather than throwing anything out. I like the history, so in a way, I guess bad paintings = lead to other paintings.

How does a painting usually start for you?

I like to look at something in the world- a picture, a drawing, a thing. The content gives me some kind of mood. Looking closely, like literally zoning in on an image, helps me let go of control. Like when you stare at something, or out the window, and everything in the periphery that was once blurry suddenly becomes full, important and surprising. You can start to really see. Then I paint and turn it around and paint it and paint the thing until it’s done -- sometimes for days, sometimes months, or longer. I think I start over every time I paint in a way.

Despite your work having so many layers, I don’t ever feel that they are overworked or hard to enter. How do you think you manage this?

Oh, thanks! I think each time I work on a painting it’s important to be open to wherever it’s going to go, whatever it’s going to become. This keeps a freshness. When you don’t try to steer which way it’s going, there can be discovery, and I think that translates in how the painting looks. I need to try to have this openness every time I work on the thing, or it’ll look really stuffy and choked-up.

When I look at your work I am really first and foremost interested in the paint more than anything else, almost as if the image comes second or third. What are you most interested in your viewers getting from your work? Is the actual image or the paint itself more important to you?

Well, it’s all important, but I think it’s become less important for me that the imagery in my work be very referential. I’ve been trying to move away from, or maybe just reconcile with, my “box of pictures” (the images in my studio that I look at a lot) because sometimes source images stop me up. They give me a starting place or a gut feeling. I’ve become more interested in the information right on the surface - the weave and snags in the linen, the drag of certain colors and brushes, how the paint looks like it feels to touch. I’m interested in how whatever image that’s there is at the will of my marks, rather than my marks being at the total will of an image. They look pretty abstract or far from whatever source there was but they have some kind of specificity. Like they don’t have an obvious logic but they do have some kind of available logic. They aren’t random or flippant. Specificity is important to me. I want a viewer to feel like I care deeply about what my paintings look like.

Describe the perfect cake.

CG I’d rather have popcorn or chips. Frito pie? KG

If you could only make work with one color, which color would you choose? Why?

CG Blue. It’s my favorite color, plus it’s so expansive KG

I would say your work often reminds me of a birthday cake, not to mention your actual cake paintings, in that they are layered, soft, sometimes gooey, and seem to reference memories. Does this seem like an accurate connection to make? Are the layers there to create something less recognizable? Do you think that automatically creates a heaviness?

My paintings come from a reverence for and curiosity about what’s past -mine and everyone’s. I like to uncover what’s below the surface, figuratively and literally, even if it’s complicated or sad. I don’t consciously “put” layers in my work, but rather leave them there if they function a good painting, if they feel essential. I don’t really like the idea of abstracting or making something less recognizable, in the sense of starting with an identifiable thing and changing it. It’s less self-conscious, less calculated. I heard this artist, Richard Poussette-Dart, say in a conversation about abstraction versus representation: “To paint a flower is to paint a lie. To paint a painting is to paint a flower.” This is it, completely.

Do you find yourself deleting/covering up something in a painting only to have it reoccur later in the same painting or in another?

Not exactly, because each of my paintings is pretty discreet and begins from something in the world- something I look at; each is different, with its own entry points and rules and outcomes. I don’t really like repeating myself in paintings. I have an easier time working serially on paper for some reason.

Does painting lead to more paintings?

Yeah, often they do. Recently, these works on paper I’m making lead to paintings. I also move paintings around in my studio all the time – they inform each other and can help me see problems or successes in the ones nearby. I don’t really ever stick to an image and re-make it, like in a sketch/study/final-painting kind of way, and I work in all different sizes

Star

Static

Darning

Fits

Wedge

Tide

How do you know when a piece is finished? How long does that feeling usually last? Are you likely to go back and edit or destroy things?

A friend of mine said once that paintings are bad until they’re good. Until it has a “face” that looks back at you clearly and insists that you don’t mess with it, it’s not a painting. If it doesn’t last, I can feel it. It’ll bug me or feel toxic in my studio, until it doesn’t, until it’s a painting. Fixing, editing, constant looking, acting, reacting is the whole thing. And if I’ve made a painting I can feel that too. It’s in my instincts.

Theodor Adorno said paintings are mortal enemies. Do you feel this describes the relationship between you and your paintings?

Ha! It is kind of like a battle. You paint the thing until it looks like a painting. The next day you look at it and enter it at its weak spots. And again you paint it until it looks like a painting. And the next time, you ind what’s weak and you breach it, back and forth, again and again, even if it results in destroying the entire painting. It sounds violent, I suppose. Painting is really hard! It’s constant decision-making.

I try not to think too much about the work outside of my studio, not while I’m making it. Once there are piles of finished paintings, then it’s a game of contextualizing them, arranging them, and thinking about them as a larger thing. I feel like sometimes in a clean space outside of my studio, I can more clearly see the relationships between my paintings their relationship to other people’s work. I can hear my own voice more clearly and this is a good reason to show them. It feels good when other people like your paintings.

Who are some artists you are currently looking at?

Norbert Schwontkowski is someone I look at a lot-amazing surfaces and really direct, poetic imagery. The Frankenthaler show in NYC recently knocked my socks off, especially her paintings on unsized linen. The paint seemed to float above the bloom of the leached-out oil. I also loved Tal R.’s recent show in New York. I went to Frieze last month just so I could see a couple more of his paintings. They sparkle all over with the rabbit-skin and really dry pigment.

What is the best thing someone has ever said about your work?

CG That I should feel really lucky I’m making it. KG

Is your work inherently a self-portrait? KG

I suppose my work is very personal, in both content and material. Often it stems from thoughts about my relationship to the female roles and traditions in my family. My work is becoming more heavily concerned with touch, which is very personal I think.

When was the last time you were physically hurt? What were you doing and what was the injury?

CG I just had a terrible chest cold that lasted for like 2 weeks-antibiotics and everything. It hurt me bad. KG

Gerhard Richter says painting under observation is the worst possible thing. Do you agree? I often feel like even if no one is directly in the room, I imagine others observing the painting and it changes how I paint. Usually it takes a couple hours for that feeling to fade, which is when the real painting starts.

I think I paint best when I almost forget what else is going on around me. It sounds silly, but it’s like you get so face-to-face engrossed with the surface and how it is to put paint on it, that you surrender control, or at the very least, you have to compromise with the painting that’s developing. This is just about you and it, not anyone else. I think in the end, if you’ve really made a painting, people will be able to see it, but you certainly can’t be thinking about that while you’re making. I heard a lecture once by Agnes Martin and she said something like, “you should never think in the studio, intellect has no place in the studio.” This I think this is true. I think it’s good to try to save intellect, and calculation and analysis for before and after you paint. Maybe I’m a romantic.

That being said, is painting a secretive business? What do you think about the transition of something private to something public? Why do this (paint)? How do your works change in this context?

Ok, last but not least. Ask yourself a question and answer it.

CG Want to get a coffee? Yes.

Carve

Infanta

Gravel

Frond