Stephen Cutler Linsley ARTIST IN RESIDENCE
Founding member of the Jim Carroll Band and bass player, producer and
engineer for bands such as Public Enemy, Michael Lockwood and The Fat Boys, and since 1991, a photographer, Stephen Linsley has some stories to tell... By Katie Nartonis
Stephen Linsley is a Los Angeles based photographer and musician. A founding member of the legendary Jim Carroll Band, he later went on to produce and engineer albums for massive bands
Ke’Andra & Miles | IMG Models
such as Public Enemy and Doom. In 1991, he turned his attention to photography full-time. His photographs are made using an 8x10 film camera and hand-printed on large format fiber-based paper. The prolonged exposure he utilizes creates a depth of image and as the artist notes, makes them directly accessible to the viewer. Recent series include luscious images of Southern California piers standing in the swirling ocean tide. They are totemic and liminal. The images lead the viewer to feel as if they are standing at a portal, perhaps a door to a metaphysical space. All the while, celebrating the visceral beauty of the natural image. His ongoing series of portraits, most recently of fellow musicians, have the richness and warmth of old master paintings and capture the essence of his sitters. A recent interview with the artist revealed a bit of his history and the approach to his work. all photos Šstephen linsley all rights reserved
SoCal Magazine
socalmag.com
winter 2019
KN: Tell me what it felt like as a young musician, perhaps before you ‘made it.’ SL: Well, I grew up in the 70’ when being a rock star was like being a god. That myth has been debunked but back then It was all about the rock and roll, and living in a world of music. KN: How old were you when you joined the Jim Carroll band? SL: 17, I was very young. My uncle, my father’s youngest brother, was always in bands, he was my mentor. When I was 10, he gave me a guitar. He was like the older brother that I didn’t have. We were both interested in music. I followed his bands until I was like 17, and then one day his bass player quit. He called me and said, hey do you want to join the
moved out to Bolinas, in Marin County, to play in my Uncle’s band, and Jim had moved there to kick heroin. He was living in this tiny cabin basically as a monk, writing. Jim Carroll had gone to San Diego to see Patti Smith play and as the story goes,the opening band didn’t show up, so Patti said Jim could Jam with her band. I think that opened up the desire for him to express his poetry with a band. Shortly after that, we got together and wrote a bunch of songs. It was an immediate powerhouse. We made a demo in Bolinas, which Jim took back to New York City. About six months later Jim came back from New York with a record deal. For the next year, we wrote and played gigs. The first few gigs we did, people looked at us like ‘what the fuck are you doing?’ They didn’t get Jim. He’s not a singer, and
“The act of desiring something, not stuff, is a process of wanting and desiring what is essential.” band? I really wanted to be a disc jockey, but they asked and I said of course, and I never looked back. It was right before I was going into 12th grade. I was never very scholastic anyway so I said, I’ll do both until I can’t - and then I’ll quit school, which was exactly what happened. It was amazing. Most people struggle and work years for it. I was so blessed and lucky to have it happen serendipitously. KN: And it didn’t destroy you. SL: No, it didn’t destroy me. It certainly could have and almost did. I realize now that I was really spiritually and emotionally aware even then and I was paying attention. When I realized we were famous – I saw right away that I still felt the same, that it didn’t fix my demons. That realization at 20 probably saved my life. Being famous can be very toxic, and now that I’ve survived it I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. KN: What year did the Jim Carroll band get recognition? SL: Our album came out in 1980, and I was 20. It was like stepping onto a moving merry-go-round. When I joined the band out of high school, I SoCal Magazine
he’s reciting this crazy poetry…and I just remember doing a lot of shows with one or two people in the audience. I mean, we did a lot of shows like that. It was so new and ahead of its time. But after we had been playing in San Francisco, writing for an album, there there started to be lot of good press about the band. Then we did this show at the Mabuhay Gardens in North Beach, it was our official coming out show(where the whole SF punk scene happened.) We’d done a lot of small gigs up to then, with indifferent reactions so when I came out on stage for this show it was unbelievable. I’d never seen the Mabuhay so crowded. The place was completely packed - there was no room anywhere but on the stage. It was like a light had come on, we were an instant hit. It was the most mind-blowing experience, even if I had any expectations, this exceeded them by light years. It was so intense. The absolute quintessential rock n roll ‘sandwich’ show. The rock n roll sandwich – it’s when the energy from the amplifiers are coming at you one way, and the audience is coming at you the other way - and you are the meat in the middle. Super intense socalmag.com
Alice Bag winter 2019
I used to leave my body when I was on stage. And this night was one of those nights. I would literally have these experiences where this tingling would start in my butt and rise up my spine, and all the hairs would be standing on my head. And then I would leave my body – and I’d literally be outside of my body. It happened quite a few times back then. When the record came out and we started touring it became more like a job, it didn’t really happen anymore. Years later I met my guru and took part in a ritual where she awakened the kundalini, and that’s the description the awakening of the kundalini, which resides in the Muladara chakra at the base of the spine. Which by the way is actually the object of yoga. The idea is not to have good abs, the object is to awaken the kundalini and become enlightened. So I woke up one day on tour, after we had made it and were famous, and said to myself “I don’t feel different, what do I do now?” That was a big deal for me. I think it was that internal conversation that kept me alive. I saw that being famous wasn’t going make me feel better as a person. In general with performers and rock stars that’s what happens. And either you embrace the idea that you didn’t change when you got fame and find some way to live with your self, or more likely you don’t, and you then try to cover it up with drugs. I think the fantasy that we could be healed is destroyed at that point and there’s no shoving the genie back in the bottle. So you end up trying to annihilate yourself. Fame doesn’t solve your pain. I’ve been blessed, and I’ve had grace and I’m smart enough to know when I fuck things up really bad. I’m pretty lucky that way, and grateful. KN: As an artist, and as a creative person, how do you feel about what’s going on in the country right now? SL: I’m pretty politically aware. I was raised radical, I grew up in Berkeley, reading Jerry Rubin and Mad magazine, so I’m certainly committed to stirring the pot as a person – making people think. In my art I want something slightly different though, I want people to feel. For me art is about emotional response and connection, but in my personal life I want to challenging people to think. A lot of people don’t educate themselves. You have to make it a personal quest to learn. It’s actually harder now, with all the bullshit out there. So on one SoCal Magazine
hand I’m terrified. If it was just me I wouldn’t care, I’m getting older. I generally prefer animal to people anyway. But now that I have a daughter and I’m obliged to hope for something better for us. It’s kind of a nightmare thinking about what kind of world she’s going to have, to be in, what kind of world she’s going to have, to be a woman in. That’s a large part of my parenting of her. As a man, I’m very consciously working to grow a powerful woman. I come from a long line of powerful women. Women who sadly for them lived in a time when it was nearly impossible to be a powerful woman, but now is the time. As they say, the future is female. My hope, which is hard to have but I cling to it any way, is that this current circus is just a turning over the proverbial rock and exposing the worst part of ourselves. We have to either heal or perish. KN: Hallelujah! SL: I’m constantly talking to her about asking for what she wants. Historically women aren’t encouraged to ask for what they want, so they learned to get what they want thru subterfuge. I’m teaching her to ask for what she wants. It doesn’t mean you’re gonna always going to get it, but at least we can ask. I think that the power is in asking, particularly for woman. KN: It kind of unlocks the energy of that forward motion, doesn’t it? SL: Yeah, and then you honor yourself because you believe in yourself enough to honor what you want. As an artist, that dynamic of asking for what you want – instead of asking for what I think I can get – is important. For most of my life, I think I edited what I wanted based on what I thought I could get and I’ve tried to retrain myself. It’s like the Bhagavad Gita – you take the action and let go of the results, because the action is all you have. KN: I think our emotions play a part in asking. SL: The act of desiring something, not stuff (not Amazon), is a process of wanting and desiring what is essential. If you are open to the experience, you can separate the wheat from the chaff. This goes for knowledge a well. It’s O.K. to be wrong, and not know things. That’s the first step towards knowledge, and as Ansel Addams said, ‘it’s only a mistake if you don’t take notes” this is a good metaphor for life and art. I’m constantly pointing out to my daughter how I often run into stuff I don’t know and how powerful
Left to right: John Montgomery • Anton Sanko • Swords of Fatima • Damon Fox
socalmag.com
winter 2019
Dockweiler Beach SoCal Magazine
socalmag.com
winter 2019
Brighton Beach Pier
that is for me to learn from. If I stopped every time I didn’t know something, I wouldn’t do anything. Music for one thing, the degree of how good you can be is dependent on how bad you can be. If you aren’t willing to suck, you’re not going to get better. Be honest with yourself. KN: Let’s talk a bit about your photography. SL: If I had one truth, a truth about being an artist, it is that our greatest gift is our pain. The gift is contained in our wounds. We learn from it. That realization was a sea-change for me. Our gift is contained in our wound, as Robert Bly said to me once. Thankfully, I’m an artist and this is good for me. Even though I have spent years studying the technical aspects of photography and with an 8x10 camera there are lot’s of technical aspects, it is really the emotional skills I have developed which drive my work. Although I am a photographer I consider the heart of my work to be more than merely visual. And what I’m most after, whether in a landscape or a portrait is actually unseen, timeless, beyond the temporal world. I’m currently working on a book of portraits of older rock icons. The point of these portraits is that we’ve had a lifetime of learning both as people and as musicians. I want to show to the world, who we are SoCal Magazine
NOW. Most of what we see of rock musicians, and this goes double for my generation of punk musicians is what they were doing when they were young. Punk in it’s heydey seemed all about youth, but we are now upwards of 50 and many of us are more active then ever. Many of these people have realized they still have something important to say. I believe that what drove us then is not actually about youth but who we were and as we’ve aged we’ve become more interesting and empowered towards action. Sure many are not as famous or on the radio but there is more to a person than just fame. I recently made a portrait of Alice Bag, a pioneer female punk star, and believe me whatever gravitas she had in her youth, She is way more powerful now. This is constantly confirmed for me in these portraits. My approach as an artist, is to take the darkness out into the light. Too find the viewpoint not usually seen. Under piers, behind the mask of stardom. I’ve trained myself to respond to more than what my eyes show me. That which is untrue is like a shadow, and if you expose it, it will disappear. Turn on the light, and the shadow is gone. You can’t be afraid. If you take the nottruth out into the light you can see how false it is. That realization has lead me on my path as an artist.
Of course I’m dangerously mixing my metaphors since as a photographer, balancing shadow and light is really what I do. Art is all about challenging beliefs about yourself. Ultimately, the act of creating art is that process. In its purest form, it’s the idea of having an opinion. Being an artist is about trusting your insides even though most of the world doesn’t. It’s always a challenge of trusting of what you experience. I’ve done a lot of work to actively trust what I want, but also to be willing to live with the disappointment of not getting it.
Huntington Beach Pier
Stephen was recently made a member of the Pasadena Society of Artists. He will have some pieces an the upcoming show
PSA New Member show Saturday Feb 2 2-4pm
McGinty’s Gallery at the End of the World. 869 E. Mariposa st Altadena Ca 91011
www.stephenlinsley.com
Katie Nartonis is an Art + Design writer, curator and auction specialist based out of Los Angeles, California and sometimes Taos, New Mexico. Earlier this year she curated “Nature: Human Nature” an art + design show at Loft at Liz’s gallery in Los Angeles. She is currently co-writing and publishing a book on the late San Diego designer/maker, “Jack Rogers Hopkins: California Maverick”(with Co-Writer/Editor Jeffrey Head). She is the founder of The Nartonis Project and is Art + Design Editor of SoCal Magazine. www. thenartonisproject.com
socalmag.com
winter 2019