Mike Piggott | I've never been here before by Maya Frodeman Gallery

MIKE PIGGOTT

15 OCTOBER — 28 NOVEMBER 2021

MIKE PIGGOTT i ’ve never be en here before

TAYLOE PIGGOTT GALLERY

RENDEZVOUS, 2021 oil on canvas (diptych) 66 x 96 inches

CATHEDRAL GROUP (grid of 6), 2021 archival pigment print on paper 20 x 17 1/2 inches each

TETONS, HORSE AND RIDER I, 2021 oil on linen 48 x 66 inches

LAST LIGHT II, 2021 oil on linen 30 x 40 inches

TETONS, HORSE AND RIDER II, 2021 oil on linen 48 x 66 inches

ALMOST HOME, 2021 oil on canvas 48 x 66 inches

CASCADE CANYON, 2021 oil on canvas 24 x 30 inches

RED CANOE, 2019 oil on linen 20 x 24 inches

WIGGLY GREEN, 2018 oil on linen 66 x 48 inches

c. g.

a. VIEW FROM SIGNAL MOUNTAIN, 2020-2021, oil on linen, 12 x 16 inches b. TOWN SQUARE, 2018-2020, oil on canvas, 24 x 30 inches c. DEATH CANYON, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches d. ON THE WATER, 2021, oil on panel, 11 x 14 inches e. GOING SOLO, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches f. SILENCE, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches g. FROSTY RAINBOW, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches h. UNTITLED (ABSTRACTION OF TREE TRUNKS), 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches i. 4TH OF JULY IN TETON VALLEY, 2021, oil on panel (diptych), 11 x 28 inches

j. n. q.

k. o. r.

s. m.

j. THE LIGHTS ARE ON, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches k. WINTER’S RIDDLE, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches l. CABIN IN THE TREES, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 11 x 14 inches m. PINK & BLUE, 2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches n. COMING OUT OF THE TREES, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches o. ICICLES, 2018-2021, oil on canvas, 20 x 24 inches p. STORMY NIGHT, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 12 x 16 inches q. STORM OVER THE TETONS, 2021, oil on panel, 11 x 14 inches r. SHADOWS, 2020-2021, oil on panel, 11 x 14 inches

VIEW FROM SIGNAL MOUNTAIN, 2020-2021 oil on linen 12 x 16 inches

DEATH CANYON, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

TOWN SQUARE, 2018-2020 oil on canvas 24 x 30 inches

FROSTY RAINBOW, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

ON THE WATER, 2021 oil on panel 11 x 14 inches

GOING SOLO, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

SILENCE, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

UNTITLED (ABSTRACTION OF TREE TRUNKS), 2020-2021 oil on panel 36 x 24 inches

4TH OF JULY IN TETON VALLEY, 2021 oil on panel (diptych) 11 x 28 inches

THE LIGHTS ARE ON, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

WINTER’S RIDDLE, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

CABIN IN THE TREES, 2020-2021 oil on panel 11 x 14 inches

PINK & BLUE, 2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

THE LIGHTS ARE ON, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

WINTER’S RIDDLE, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

ICICLES, 2018-2021 oil on canvas 20 x 24 inches

SHADOWS, 2020-2021 oil on panel 11 x 14 inches

COLD CABIN, 2020 oil on panel 11 x 14 inches

COWGIRLS VIEW, 2020 oil on canvas 12 x 30 inches

THE CRAZIES, 2021 oil on canvas 20 x 24 inches

WINTER’S THEATRE, 2021 oil on canvas 12 x 16 inches

LAST NIGHT I, 2020 acrylic on canvas 11 x 15 inches

TREE LINE, 2021 oil on canvas 9 x 24 inches (diptych)

MOUNTAINS, RIVERS AND TREES, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

COLD CABIN, 2020 oil on panel 11 x 14 inches

CANOE CALM, 2020 acrylic on canvas 20 x 24 inches

REFLECTIONS, 2018 oil on canvas 36 x 48 inches

ON THE LAKE, 2021 oil on panel 38 x 38 inches

KODAK, 2021 oil on panel 38 x 38 inches

STARS OVER ORANGE, 2020-2021 oil on panel 14 x 11 inches

RED CREEK, 2015 acrylic on canvas 16 x 12 inches

WINTER’S RIDDLE, 2020-2021 oil on panel 12 x 16 inches

TREES IN THE AFTERGLOW, 2020 oil on canvas 30 x 24 inches

PEAKS AND PINES, 2021 watercolor on paper 3 x 5 inches

WINTER TREES , 2021 watercolor on paper 3 x 5 inches

ipad drawing by Mike Piggott

A V ISIT W IT H M I K E PIG G OT T AN INTERVIEW BY KATIE FRANKLIN COHN

TPG: Mike, I’ve always been impressed with your resistance to technology, let’s call yours a devotion to a largely analog lifestyle. [Readers, Mike is never one to check his email and spends an enviable amount of time outdoors. More often than not, he’s painting.] What drew you to the iPad drawings initially? MP: I must say, it was David Hockney, just because I didn’t know the technology even existed. And then when iPads first came out, God bless Tayloe, she bought me one and someone, probably her, helped me download Brushes, the app that I use to create these works. Since then, I have been hooked. at you don’t need brushes and paint and a palette; you don’t need any of that. It’s all in the phone and it’s just really, really cool. TPG: Can you tell me a little more about the program you use? MP: As technical or technological as it is, it’s really an awesome cave man toy. As long as you’ve got electricity, as long as your device is charged, you can draw for more than half a day. You can draw for a long time. And then I love how the process of it all feeds into my painting. The way you look at the palette on the iPhone doesn’t just show you a color, it shows you how much white and black is mixed into your color—it shows you pure color then how much it’s lightened up with white or how much it’s been darkened with black or sometimes, the mixture of the two. It’s really cool because as an artist, sometimes the hurdle is “how am I going to get to this color?” And in a sense the iPad or iPhone drawing

helps me get to that color faster. So it’s been such a resourceful tool in the painting department – in painting. And the other thing is, in painting, in drawing, you can get to a spot where you might start screwing it all up. And so, in the app, you can get to this spot and hit ‘duplicate’. So say you’ve drawn the figure and you like the palette but you’re about to go crazy and add a whole new color, you hit ‘duplicate’ so you can save what you already have, so if you aren‘t happy with the changes you’ve made, you can go back to that point. You can make lots of copies of your drawings as you go, which is very helpful and cool and gives you a sense of freedom. One thing I’ve learned—and this has taken me a long time to learn, and I still wrestle with it daily—is that the less you care about what you’re doing, the better you do. It’s like listening to Keith [Richards] talk to Mick [Jagger] about how to write a song. It’s like “dude, we need a -- vowel, just give me a vowel. It doesn’t matter, this chord just needs a vowel.” If you can be that loose and easy, it makes the whole process just work better. In painting, I’m still learning. As a young painter, you feel like, “oh, I did the cheek just right,” or, “oh, I did that tree just right…I can’t mess it up.” -- the tree. I may have to repaint that same tree a hundred times, it doesn’t matter. As soon as you can get to that “it doesn’t matter” part, creativity flows better. And you make better paintings. That’s been my biggest lesson. TPG: I love the way you’ve elevated an artistic exercise like your iPad drawing to something we can present as fine art… Is this something you feel comfortable with? MP: Oh, absolutely. It’s a different way of doing it, but it’s just an

awesome tool. Of course, deep down inside, there’s nothing quite like the surface of an oil painting. Whether it’s a Soutine or a Goya, or whoever, there’s nothing like it. But the iPhone drawings or iPad drawings feel just as important. I respect it. You see the immediacy of the way an artist works with an iPhone drawing. You can see their funkiness their quirkiness, their sensibility. When you walk into a museum, right away you can say, “that’s a Cézanne over there, and that’s a Degas.” I mean, we’re all using brushes and paint, but it’s crazy that you can spot how, using these similar tools, that sense of individuality between painters. TPG: So, I simply cannot resist the temptation of a shiny new thing. Do you realize we’ve just minted our very first NFT for you? MP: I think that is so cool. I am very interested in technology, whether or not I try to dodge it or get around it. It’s always so difficult to tell whether technology is going to kill us or save us. Blockchain technology, this multi-ledger concept, records transactions and helps keep us accountable for what has happened. So I do think, or I hope blockchain technology helps better us as a civilization, as a culture, and even might help us artists keep creating down the road. Robert Rauschenberg stood up for artists once*, way back in the day, in the seventies, I think. I think if all artists could attach an NFT to a painting in the future. Then, if that painting sells, and the value goes up, the artist is able to receive 10% or whatever it may be, of the profits from that sale. *On October 18, 1973, Ethel & Robert C. Scull sold 50 of their best artworks at Sotheby Parke Benet (now Sotheby’s), including Rauschenberg’s Thaw combine, which was sold to Scull for $900. It went for $85,000. Rauschenberg famously and angrily confronted the collector following the sale, noting that the artists themselves were left entirely out of the profits. As part of this newly minted NFT,

Tayloe Piggott Gallery has designated a percentage will go to Mike Piggott with any subsequent sales. TPG: Even in a conceptual space, it’s a whole new language. What do you think it all means? MP: See, in that sense, I belong in the woods. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully understand it. But I hope it means power to artists. That’s my hope. TPG: Even with all this “new” surrounding the exhibition, you remain authentically you as a painter. Can you tell me a little bit about what painting means to you? MP: Well, all my heroes, all the guys I love (it’s a big long list)… For me, it’s like going to a sporting event. When I get to see a Diego Velázquez in real life at a museum, it’s like watching Michael Jordan play basketball. I just can’t believe I’m standing in front of something so incredible. I see things. I just get so incredibly energized. And I see the world in a whole new way. And maybe all this is like a library of information provided by these heroes of mine. As a young painter, I used to feel like I wanted to draw like Hockney or paint like Goya or like Diego Velázquez, and now all of a sudden, I really just want to draw like Mike Piggott. And I only have so much time. Now I wake up and can’t wait TPG: You say guys, but I know personally you include gals in your stockpiles of heroes. Can you tell me about them? MP: Absolutely. You know, Elizabeth Murray is one of my all-time favorites. She’s such a -- badass. The way she worked, the shapes of her canvases, the content—it’s very domestic, it’s very womanly stuff, but she absolutely rips guys’ nuts off the way she does her artwork. When I say guys it’s not really gendered.

Right now, one of my favorite painters—I shouldn’t even call her a painter, she is an artist. One of my favorites is my girlfriend, Carol. She does everything. She’s very unique, and I love watching her work. It’s like watching [my son] Hunter go from crawling to walking. It inspires me. TPG: ‘i’ve never been here before’ is such a compelling title for an exhibition. Can you elaborate on this obviously somewhat personal journey? MP: Honestly, I could probably name all my future exhibitions the same thing. You can drive up to the Tetons, and you’ve of course been there before, or at least your memory tells you you’ve been there before, but I guess once you’re there, you’re so transfixed, you’re so intoxicated with what you feel you forget all the times you’ve been there before. It’s all new. It’s overwhelming. TPG: We live in a really special place. MP: It really is a special place. But I can almost say that about anywhere. I can be in New York City, in some of my favorite museums, and again, I’ve been here before. I’ll stand in front of a painting I’ve stared at 100 times, and I forget about all the things I figured out about that same painting the last time I was here. Each time is an entirely new experience. I don’t know how to say it, but it’s this ‘now’ thing that bowls me over. I’ll develop a body of knowledge about something, like the Tetons. But I’ll do my best try to forget about it while painting, because it’s not very helpful. As in, look at Mount Moran right now. There’s something crazy about the shadows I’ve never seen before. To name the type of gneiss doesn’t help me see what I need to see in order to paint.

I’m terrible at note-taking, but I’ll fill up a notebook in one day. Drawing is so much more important to me than a photograph. And the paintings in this show… [ed. note: our interview is briefly interrupted by an old friend who announces his exhibition is his best ever.] TPG: The Tetons are more to many of us than what we see. Tell me about your love affair with the mountains. MP: It’s really all mountains. Mountains are a refuge. You can die in the mountains and there’s a million things that can go wrong. They beckon us. Or they beckon some of us. And in my mind, mountains have more woman in ‘em than men in ‘em. The way they sit there, they’re gorgeous. It’s like a landscape of a woman under the sheets. They’re just seductive. All the stories, from the primordial all the way up until now, mountains are beckoning. TPG: Great art often involves a significant hurdle, or personal struggle (you know, or so I’ve read). Is there a moment where you can put down your paintbrush and know your work is done? MP: That’s a really good question. But maybe now more than when I was younger… My work maybe doesn’t have that finished feel I wanted when I was younger, but it’s got that essence. I feel like the essence has been injected into the canvas. I feel like I’m done when the essence is there. It takes a lot of work is what it takes. There are so many nights when I paint until midnight, scrape it all off, throw a palette knife across the room, have a Jack Nicholson temper tantrum.. there’s plenty of that going on. But the older I get, the more I consider it all part of the process. Scrape it, turp it, tomorrow’s tomorrow. Sometimes I need to walk in the woods for most of the day, sometimes it just takes a half an hour, and then I can get to work. TPG: What’s your dream project?

MP: Well, I’ve got a couple. One of these things I’d love to do is to hop in a van and go to the pretty places I’ve been, find new pretty places and just paint. I want it to transcend – to be about me and my spiritual connection with this place and not just the study of light. I’d love to figure out how to paint people—portrait is not the right word—and be at ease with it enough that I don’t feel obligated to have something that they’re proud of. I’d love for both the sitter and the painter to be happy with what’s been done, but it’s too idealistic. Painting can be really weird and dysfunctional like that. And I know this is a long answer, but New York is one of my favorite cities, and I’d love to have a gigantic room at the perfect floor height, whether it’s the twentieth floor or seventieth floor, whatever, and be up there and do some cityscapes. I think that would be very fun. And this is the huge answer, and would require lots of cities, but to go to the cities in Tuscany, or Paris, France, or Moscow, and rent a room out for six months, and go to the museums and absorb as much as I could in each place and come back to paint with that energy coursing through my veins. And that’s a whole lifetime project just that one right there… I’ve got to get painting out of my system before I get any more ideas.

*this interview was slightly adjusted due to the color of Mr. Piggott’s language. In order to keep the style of Piggott’s words we have put some “- -“ where Mike used a bit different turn of phrase.

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