Amelia’s Magazine | Fifty Years of Illustration: an interview with coauthor Lawrence Zeegen

Fifty_Years_Of_Illustration_Cover
The definitive Fifty Years of Illustration by Lawrence Zeegen and Caroline Roberts was published by Laurence King late last year. This beautiful volume charts contemporary illustration’s rich history, starting with the rampant idealism of the 1960s, moving onto the bleak realism of the 1970s, the over-blown consumerism of the 1980s and the digital explosion of the 1990s, followed by the increasing diversification of illustration that represents the discipline in the early twenty-first century.

The book explores the contexts in which the discipline has operated and looks historically, sociologically, politically and culturally at the key factors at play across each decade, whilst artworks by key illustrators bring the decade to life. Contemporary illustration’s impact and influence on design and popular culture are investigated through introductory essays and profiles of leading practitioners, illustrated with examples of their finest work.’

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Lawrence Zeegen is currently Dean of the School of Design at London College of Communication, University of the Arts London, where he leads pre-degree, undergraduate and postgraduate courses and research in animation, book arts, branding and identity, illustration, interface and interaction design, graphic communication design, spatial design and typographic design. In this in depth interview he tells us more the process of making this must have book.

Why did you decide to concentrate on the last 50 years of illustration in this book?
My book Fifty Years of Illustration charts the birth of contemporary illustration at the start of the 1960s to the present day. The sixties was the moment in time when illustrators first had an opportunity to create work away from the restrictions of the commercial client – underground publications sprang up as the counterculture evolved in San Francisco on the West Coast of the US and in London, whilst in New York studios such as Push Pin began to create and publish work that was more expressive and experimental than had previously been seen.

Contemporary illustration was born in the sixties and the discipline has undergone massive flux and a huge transformation during the five decades the book charts. From the energy and idealism of the sixties, the dreamlike escapism and contrasting bleak realism of the seventies, the over-blown consumerism and ‘greed-is-good’ ambitions of the eighties to the digital explosion of the nineties and the increasing diversification of illustration during the early 21st century, Fifty Years of Illustration explores the discipline through the key factors historically, sociologically, politically and culturally that determined each decade.

On a personal note, I turned 50 last year so the book covers illustration’s recent history aligned to my own development too. I’ve been working as an illustrator for 30 years, teaching illustration as an educator for 25 years and writing about illustration for 10 years so the book became a natural extension of my own interests in the subject.

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How did you pick the artists to represent each era?
That’s a good question – it started some years ago with conversations, often over a glass or two of red wine, with Professor John Lord at University of Brighton and with others including Professor George Hardie and Ian Wright. Ultimately though the final long list was one I discussed with the publishers, of course, and with Caroline Roberts, who worked on the book with me. Caroline pointed me in the direction of a few illustrators I hadn’t considered and also helped to source a few from the 1960s and 1970s that weren’t easy to locate.

One consideration, not really visible to the reader, is a few restrictions placed on a project like this for a couple of very valid reasons – the publishers have co-publishers in mind from a variety of other countries so were keen that illustrators from these countries were represented in the book and the other issue that cropped up a few times was the cost in reproducing some of the images. Most illustrators allowed us to reproduce their work without a fee but a few, mainly those from a few decades ago and no longer alive, were represented by picture libraries and agencies and these charged for the rights to reproduce the works; fair enough, of course, but the picture budget was soon eaten up.

There will be those illustrators that weren’t included in the book that my fellow illustrators and academics will think should have been selected and there will, inevitably, be those illustrators that I have chosen that some will wonder what warranted their inclusion – ultimately, it really did come down to personal choice. I had a list for each decade in a notebook that I carried around for a couple of years and would update from time-to-time, scribbling down names and crossing out others. It is a personal selection and most definitely not the list to end all lists – there are a few illustrators that I’d have loved to include but in having to make a tight selection it just wasn’t possible to include everyone. I’ll be interested to see from the most recent decades, which illustrators stand the test of time – and would still make the grade when I revise the book for the 2nd edition in a few years time…

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Do you have any personal favourites, and if so who are they and why?
Of course, it is impossible not to have a few favourites, even though the entire selection has been made up of my choices and ended up being quite subjective really. I guess I have favourites that span each decade. Having been born to young parents in the mid sixties I grew up to the soundtrack of the Beatles, so Klaus Voormann’s cover for Revolver still resonates very strongly for me. I met him recently and he is such a great guy and supremely talented – we’re talking about how to best celebrate the fifty years since Revolver was released next year.

Another favourite from the 1960s has to be Milton Glaser’s portrait of Dylan that ran as a poster inserted into the Bob Dylan’s Greatest Hits album released in 1967. Glaser is another hero I was fortunate enough to meet recently, this time in New York, and I asked him if the urban myth I had heard was true – did he hide the letters to spell out the word in E L V I S in Dylan’s hair, his response? ‘Yeah, I heard that too.’ He gave nothing away, and why should the guy that created one of the most iconic pieces of branding ever – I ♥ NY feel he has to confirm or deny rumours?

From the 1970s I would have to say my favourite images in the book are either Guy Peellaert’s gatefold album sleeve illustration of David Bowie for Diamond Dogs or perhaps Philip Castle’s poster for Stanley Kubrick’s Clockwork Orange, although George Hardie’s images have always been at the top of any of my lists too. From the 1980s Ivan Chermayeff’s graphic images at pretty unbeatable – yet another hero I was fortunate enough to meet last year, and Patrick Nagel’s rather cool expressionless models, as featured on Duran Duran’s Rio, have always been pretty special. Andrzej Klimowski was my tutor at the Royal College of Art at the end of the eighties, as was Dan Fern, and they both created some very iconic and influential work during that period.

More recently, during the 1990s, I have always liked the work of Andy Martin and John Hersey – both leading lights of the early digital era, and think illustrators Kam Tang, Brett Ryder and Kate Gibb are rather fantastic. Of the bunch, though, it would have to be MariscalCobi, his character for the Barcelona ’92 Olympics, was simply brilliantly envisaged and Mariscal himself is a character to behold, I met Mariscal at a lecture he gave at Central Saint Martins a few years ago and he knocked me out and again last year at a conference in Toronto I witnessed him entertain a crowd of 2000+ with a magnificently surreal talk and performance.

Bang up to date and through the 2000s and 2010s I would have to say that Jasper Goodall, Marion Deuchars, Airside, Antony Burril, Patrick Thomas, Jason Ford, Roderick Mills, Peepshow, Paul Davis, Adrian Johnson and Ian Wright are all firm favourites, but then I would say that – they’ll all old friends.

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In your own artistic practice what era or style of illustration has been the biggest influence?
I can’t say that other illustrators have really ever influenced my own work – I have admired many but not drawn direct lines or references into my illustration practice, and that’s perhaps why I feel drawn (excuse the pun) to write about the subject. I have written seven or eight books on illustration featuring the work of thousands of illustrators but think I find my inspiration in the work of untrained jobbing graphic artists of yesteryear – I love old clip art, tattoo art, rubber stamp graphics and the images that once adorned the back pages of cheap magazines and comics.

If I had to name the artists that have inspired me – Patrick Caulfield, Warhol, Kurt Schwitters, Julian Opie would be up there but the list goes on, and I think I’ve been just as inspired by music, TV, literature, film and popular culture generally. I grew up listening to the Clash, reading Colin Maccinnes, watching Tomorrow’s World and dancing to soul music – these have all been as a big an influence on my work as any artist I think.

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How long did it take to put this book together?
A good question and if I’m honest – far too long! I originally had the idea over a decade ago but I couldn’t get a publisher interested. Illustration was very much out of favour during the 1990s and it wasn’t until I had written a few other books on contemporary illustration that sold pretty well and illustration itself had come in from the cold, that I managed to persuade a publisher it would be a good idea.

How-to-do illustration books and how-to-work-in illustration books are ten-a-penny nowadays but ten years ago this wasn’t so, and this is what publishers wanted – and I was happy to oblige, of course. Getting a book published on the history of illustration, however, was more of a challenge. It was tricky for a few reasons – publishers weren’t sure that an audience for this type of book existed, but I was convinced that student and professional illustrators, and designers, would be interested. The other reason – books such as Fifty Years of Illustration can be a nightmare to publish is the sheer volume of images that require usage clearance and the coordination and communication with so many illustrators can be daunting and seemingly never-ending.

I have to say that Laurence King Publishing were behind the project from the start and were very supportive – they were also very patient too. It was the publishers that suggested to me that we bring in Caroline to share some of the workload, a good idea. I decided on the structure of the book, made the decisions on the list of illustrators – who should be in to represent each decade, and I wrote the introductory essay and each of the chapter essays and Caroline worked on the profiles – it was a fairly easy process once I’d established the illustrators but certainly the project as a whole was very time-consuming. Books such as this one are very labour intensive, and I had to fit it around the rest of my work. I’m the Dean of the School of Design at London College of Communication and that’s a pretty demanding role – I have 2000 students across a multitude of undergraduate and postgraduate design courses within my remit and even with research as an aspect of my role as the Professor of Illustration for University of the Arts London writing is only an element of what I do.

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Who designed the cover and why did you choose them? (do you feel their style represents the ‘now’ and if so why?)
The cover was always going to be tricky, and we did commission a very internationally known illustrator to create a bespoke cover image and then waited about six months before it was delivered. And it wasn’t right. We, myself and Angus Hyland the Pentagram partner and Creative Director at Laurence King, then decided to ask Jeff Fisher. I knew I wanted a cover that was made up of hand rendered letterforms – with the book packed with illustration it was never going to work to have an illustration on the cover. Jeff did, I think, a magnificent job – the cover fits the book, feels right and has enough gravitas, without being formal or stuffy, to present the subject as both readable and approachable. I always wanted the book to appeal to a wider audience than simply illustrators and designers, and I think it has achieved that and a great cover helps a book increase interest.

What in particular determined inclusion for the artists representing The New Wave, who are working today?
Presenting a new wave of artists is always going to be challenging – it is the biggest section of the book and it is about the here and now, or at least those working that have made most impact onto the illustration scene, as I see it, from the beginning of the 2000s to the present day. I would argue that Jasper Goodall was one of a small elite that had a huge influence across design for his approach to fashion illustration, that Shepard Fairey, whilst a street artist rather than an illustrator, contributed hugely to putting the first black man into the White House with his illustrated poster campaign supporting Obama and that Airside, Marion Deuchars and Alex Trochut, to name but a few, also brought illustration to new audiences because of the appeal, accessibility and the visible platforms for their work.

What are the biggest challenges facing an illustrator working today?
Where to start? Illustrators have it all and yet have nothing at all too. You want great flexibility in your working life, want to work where and when you want then illustration may well be the right career choice for you. But it really isn’t that simple – illustration is a tough industry to break into, tougher still to maintain a presence in and even if you are flavour of the month, and who says it will last any longer, you will still find it hard to call the shots. Illustrators are guns-for-hire and style is king – when you’re style is in vogue you can do no wrong, but when its been seen and done and the art directors, designers and those who commission have moved on, if you’ve not moved on too – then the phone stops ringing and emails stop pinging through. It can be a tough, and brutal existence and can be totally dictated by demand – unless you’re smart enough to have other outlets for your illustration work, of course. For those illustrators that create their own prints, products and paraphernalia there can be life after the commercial commissions, but making a genuine living from this is increasingly difficult I think. There is a reason that most working illustrators are under the age of thirty.

At the risk of sounding far too negative though, I do think that working as an illustrator is great fun; I spent 10 years working out of a studio in Hoxton, Big Orange, that a gang of us set up upon graduation from the Royal College of Art in 1989 and enjoyed every minute of the experience – the studio is still in existence today but with not a single founding member still present, and I guess that does say something of how important younger illustrators constantly coming onto the scene is.

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At the back of the book you state that there is still a lot left to do to record the impact of illustration on art, design and society – why do you think this is the case?
Because illustration has, until now, been treated as a subsection of graphic design, as a footnote in graphic design’s rich history. I believe that there is a vital history that needs to be documented – that illustration has played a major part in defining the 20th and now the 21st centuries and is an aspect of our visual culture that hasn’t been consdiered seriously enough. The first visual communication between humans, before written language, was most likely scratched or drawn in the sand of dirt by a finger or a stick – this wasn’t cave art; it was illustration. Illustration was the earliest form of graphic communication – we encourage young kids to draw, to express themselves through illustration but yet we don’t take the discipline seriously enough, we don’t reflect on how illustration shapes, entertains and informs us. I hope that Fifty Years of Illustration is just one chapter in the recording of illustration’s great history and that others recognize the value of the subject. I’m not done on the subject myself, that’s for sure, I have other opinions, views and ideas about the discipline and will be writing, lecturing and presenting on illustration for a few more years yet, but this is call-to-arms for others to join me in celebrating, and berating illustration (because not everything is perfect) – we have to talk about the good, the bad and the ugly of the discipline and to a wider audience too.

Who do you hope will read this book and why would you recommend it?
As I’ve said really – art and design students and design and illustration professionals as well, but I really hope too that this book is picked up, looked at and read by those with an interest in the subject. Illustration is the ‘people’s art’ so I hope that people will see something of interest in the book – from the children’s illustrated book they loved reading or being read to at bedtime to the record they loved as a teenager, with artwork they stared at for hours whilst listening to the music, illustration has had an impact into our lives in so many ways and is a fascinating subject to read about and look into.

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On a personal level why do you love illustration so much?
I grew up with it, from my first love of illustration through the Ladybird books of my childhood, to the 7-inch single sleeves of my teenage years and life as an art student I always came back to the illustrated image as a means of visual communication. I like being around illustrators too – I like their sense of the world, their desire to tell stories and communicate and the incredible skills many illustrators demonstrate through their work. I also like that illustration is accessible and everyday – you don’t need to go to a gallery to see illustration – pick up a book or newspaper, you don’t need to ‘understand’ illustration – it isn’t complex, it is what it is.

You have said you should “feed your brain, feed your eyes, feed your soul” – where do you go to do this?
Anywhere and everywhere – personally, I read newspapers and magazines, I was once a magazine fiend and every copy of The Face ever published for example, I see movies, I listen to music, I trawl the internet – all the same stuff we all do.

I’ve been fortunate to travel a lot and wherever I am in the world I bring back ideas, references, research – last year I took photographs and inspiration from trips to South Korea, Turkey, Italy, Canada, USA, Hong Kong, China… it is hard not to draw influences from such fascinating places.

I meet many people too, in my line of work, and much of my thinking comes from conversations and meetings with great students, great academics and great practitioners – I am a great believer in surrounding oneself with smart people that challenge you to think smarter, work harder and keep you focused on doing great work – whether it be an illustration, a lecture on illustration, an article or book on illustration. And I am also a great believer in having an opinion, a point of view, and getting it out there.

Buy Fifty Years of Illustration here.

Categories ,Adrian Johnson, ,airside, ,Alex Trochut, ,Andy Martin, ,Antony Burril, ,Big Orange, ,Bob Dylan, ,Brett Ryder, ,Caroline Roberts, ,Clockwork Orange, ,Cobi, ,David Bowie, ,Fifty Years of Illustration, ,George Hardie, ,Guy Peellaert, ,Ian Wright, ,Ivan Chermayeff, ,Jason Ford, ,Jasper Goodall, ,Jeff Fisher, ,John Hersey, ,Julian Opie, ,Kam Tang, ,Kate Gibb, ,Klaus Voormann, ,Kurt Schwitters, ,Laurence King, ,Lawrence Zeegen, ,London College of Communication, ,Marion Deuchars, ,Mariscal, ,Milton Glaser, ,Patrick Caulfield, ,Patrick Nagel, ,Patrick Thomas, ,Paul Davis, ,Peepshow, ,Philip Castle, ,Professor George Hardie, ,Professor John Lord, ,Professor of Illustration, ,Revolver, ,Roderick Mills, ,Royal College of Art, ,The Face, ,University of Brighton, ,University of the Arts London, ,Warhol

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Amelia’s Magazine | An interview with American artist Matthew Rose


My situation (image courtesy of Matthew Rose)

Matthew Rose is an American artist living in Paris known for his 1, look 000 piece wall-to-wall collages. On viewing his work, purchase you can’t help but feel as if you are peering into the wrong end of a telescope; the objects look familiar yet distorted, eerie yet beautiful.

His abstract, artistic style presents a surreal and parallel world infused with vibrant colours where he often plays with an unusual fusion of subjects (and by this I mean a man with carrots for his head or a woman who is part-human, part-camera – pretty crazy stuff but in the most fantastic sense!).

For almost three decades, Matthew has been producing installations, which reinforce the connection between imagery and literature in art. His works – many of which are a composite of beautiful colours, visuals and text melting into one another – evoke the genres of 20th century surrealist artists, and several critics have cited his work as demonstrating a ‘dadaist exploration of sense and non-sense’.

Matthew’s installations have featured in galleries and museums across Europe, Asia and the United States, and his work has appeared in numerous books and magazines, including MASTERS: COLLAGE (Sterling Publishing/Lark Books, 2010) published recently.

His most notable art project to date, A Book About Death, showcased in New York’s Emily Harvey Foundation Gallery in September 2009. The show was a logistical feat involving thousands of artists from across the globe sending 500 artworks in the form of postcards to construct the exhibition. The beauty of the exhibition was that the end result was offered to one lucky visitor in the form of a book… for free. More than 18 exhibitions of A Book About Death have been staged worldwide, including The Queens Museum in New York, MuBE in São Paulo and MoMA Wales.


Private view invite (image courtesy of Matthew Rose and Orange Dot Gallery)

Matthew’s most recent project, Scared But Fresh, is a dislocated love story exploring the sense and non-sense, which I was lucky enough to catch at Orange Dot Gallery, a lovely new exhibition space in the heart of Bloomsbury. By his own admission, Matthew is interested in ‘creating works to see them for himself’ but as a by-product of his imagination, his mesmerising creations prompt the viewer to garner thoughts of their own.

After gate-crashing a Brown University reunion held at the gallery, where Matthew studied Semiotics in 1981, I managed to grab a quiet moment with the calm and composed artist before his alumni chums arrived, gaining a glimpse into the annals of the mind of a truly fascinating individual…

How old were you when you realised you wanted to be an artist?
I couldn’t have been more than six years old when my mother and aunt dragged me to The Brooklyn Museum to see Van Gogh. The lines went around the block and I couldn’t understand what the fuss was about; I was hungry, my feet hurt and being small, I was suffocating in this cloud of wool coats. Once inside the galleries, however, I caught my first glimpse of what has proven to be a very nourishing world… I stayed close to my mother and aunt for about 10 minutes but soon enough got lost (purposely) and quietly pushed my way through the crowds to get up close to Van Gogh’s brilliant colors, these vibrating landscapes – in particular, the painting he produced in the Arlesian sun, Almond Branches in Bloom (1890). It turned out to be one of the pieces he produced the year he died of a self-inflicted gun shot wound. I never forgot the color and intelligence behind this painting, and I slowly began to look for this “art experience” in my own.


Anglais (image courtesy of Matthew Rose)

What artists did you look up to when you were developing your artistic style?
Most artists I know were influenced by the early 20th century modernists – Picasso, Matisse, Malevich…then Duchamp and the Dadaists, the Surrealists, Pollock, de Kooning and then those who flavored the world we arrived in: Warhol, Johns, Rauschenberg. For me, probably folks like Hopper for his era and compositions and silence; and Cornell for his expansive internal universe, and mostly Ray Johnson, because he was a friend and teacher (as he was to thousands) and the way he worked. Since I mostly work in collage, I’m more prone to think in disparate images and texts, an old-fashioned multi-media stream of consciousness. I don’t have problems with dislocated images and lexical puzzles. Of course I don’t pretend that these artists are producing works of philosophy, but rather reflecting the cataclysm that stems from consciousness.

Your work often involves the use of collage – what led to this fascination and why do you like working in this particular abstract context?
Collage is just one of several mediums I work in. Over the years I’ve produced works/object in wax or wood, painting and drawing, and text pieces either as rubber stamp works (printing) or drawing the words. One of my interests is word as image, and collage permits me to combine words and images in a fairly rapid fashion. I tend to work super fast and produce series in a matter of days or weeks. I’m pretty obsessed once I get going and very little interferes with my process. I did a show some years ago called ‘Spelling With Scissors’, and this is my approach – combining literature (texts) with images. I have always discussed my aesthetic view as a form of reading.

What does working in collage allow you to express in ways that other forms of artistic expression cannot?
Speed. Strangeness. The wide array of material allows me to cover many ideas and compositional concepts in a short period of time. Painting plays a part in what I do, as does drawing and often these mediums come into play in a work. But collage is an approach to consciousness, and that, I think is the flux endpoint in my work. Most of the elements I use are found, and that, too, is an important part of my process. Seeing what the world washes up at my feet, the skidmarks of my time and place.


Scared But Fresh at Orange Dot Gallery (photography courtesy of Orange Dot Gallery)

What was the inspiration behind Scared But Fresh?
Scared But Fresh
is a love story. The works in the exhibition come together (in my mind, at least) to lay out a dislocated love story, a song about love with its insistent cacophony. I think if you look at the pieces in this exhibition, including the 12-piece collage on paper series, America, you’ll see sex, love and death (the staples of art making), you’ll discover heartache, lust, dread and all those angst-laden things that produce so much of the content of our lives. Or at least that’s the way I see it. Again, I produce these works to see them myself, to see what these odd elements produce in combination, and to perhaps understand what sort of stuff is moving around inside of me; that said, it’s not therapy, but rather an inquiry.

Why is the exhibition called Scared But Fresh?
Scared But Fresh was a phrase sent to me in 2002 by a friend; she signed an e mail that way. I immediately seized upon it, made a tonne of text works with it, cutting stencils and painting them, or adding it to other works, but also meditating upon its possible meanings. The “but” is critical. My thinking in using it for the title of this exhibition at Orange Dot Gallery in London was that it was so aggressive, sure but still loaded with innocence and dread. Like love.

Critics have previously cited your work as a dadaist exploration of sense and non-sense. What would your response be to this?
I would agree with them. Dada is many things, and has been the point of departure for nearly 100 years of art production. The combination of sense and non-sense, broken grammar, chopped up meaning, and the flux of everyday life is, in my view, what my consciousness is like. What is the sense of finding a dollar bill stuck in a pile of dog shit? Or posters torn and weathered revealing a history of pasting and perhaps, a history of beauty (the models featured in years of posters, bits of their faces and clothing revealed)? I grab onto these things and consider them. Other people think about interest rates and widget production, and so do I, but I do something quite different with the information, the images and the meaning of these things. A large piece I produced, Les Affaires (prints are on Keep Calm Gallery’s site), surveys all sorts of exchanges; it is about commerce in many ways. Another work, Immaculate Perception (also available as a print on Keep Calm Gallery), is a very simple surreal piece showing a girl blossoming from a lemon tree. It’s not very interesting to be logical all day long, plus logic is overrated.


Cornell Bottle (photography courtesy of Orange Dot Gallery)

How would you describe your own style of work?
I’m a cut and paste artist. But I try to be clear in my chaos. The style can be dada, neo-pop, surreal, but I think after all these years, it’s simply mine.

When you create art, do you do it in the frame of mind that it will be viewed by others or it is created as a visual form of a personal diary?
I create these things to see them for myself, to discover what this 1/2 face would look like with this 1/2 refrigerator. Or what would happen if this nice girl in her party dress would be like if she were wearing a steak for a head, or a pair of mechanical gears for breasts? I produce these works the way I play chess, carefully, but totally willing to take risks, totally willing to exchange queens, sacrifice pawns…not afraid to lose. As for a diary, I’m not sure about that, but I do work in books very often. Some of my series come in the form of 110-page visual novels like A Perfect Friend and Days Like These, People (drawings), Machines (drawings) and a dozen others. I feel not so much as if I’m making things for other people – again – but more for myself, and not to cure myself of anything other than the nightmare that is our world.

You are now based in France. Do you find that where you live has any influence on the themes that run through your work?
Living in France probably hasn’t altered in any significant way the themes that run through my work. Love, sex, death, anxiety, money will find you out no matter where you live. The material though is different. As I’m extremely interested in language, the plethora of printed materials in French, German, Spanish, Italian, English and other languages abounds here. I often find old beat up books tossed out on the street, or objects on the sidewalk. I can also play with a tonne of languages and I very much enjoy that. It’s the world. My studio is small and quiet and as I also live in the space I’m always up at 3 am working. Or I sleep then wake and work… something is always going on here, and should I need to go out, a walk proves a real fascination for me after a period of intense activity. “Holy smokes,” I’ll say to myself. “I live in France.” I sometimes forget that I actually live in this country.

What thoughts/feelings would you like viewers to go away with after they have been to your exhibition?
Well they tell me that they enjoy the work, they like that craziness of the work, but that it all makes sense. During the exhibition the head of a large international advertising company spent quite a while looking at my work. His focus is message communication, and in particularly creating iPhone apps, so he’s very attuned to visuals and text, and he said to me: “This is brilliant.” At the moment he was looking at a work from the America series of a girl on a swing with the word “HOME” pasted on top of her. She was pasted, in turn, on top of a photograph of a ship in a raging storm. That to me was very rewarding. Because something that was interesting to me was interesting to someone else, it was strong enough to click somewhere else.

How would you best like to be remembered?
You mean when I die? I launched an enormous project about this (in a way), A Book About Death. So I’ve thought long and hard about what its like to not have consciousness, to be left alone, to struggle with the impermanence of life, and the often sad and painful lives we lead when the folks we love are no longer with us. I’ve tried not to turn away from death and acknowledge it. Maybe as someone who wasn’t afraid to confront his demons, loved his friends and collaborated with the world in a way that made a little bit more sense out of the nonsense.

Categories ,A Book About Death, ,Brown University, ,Cornell, ,Dadaists, ,de Kooning, ,Duchamp, ,Emily Harvey Foundation Gallery, ,Hopper, ,Johns, ,Kat Phan, ,Keep Calm Gallery, ,Malevich, ,matisse, ,Matthew Rose, ,MoMA Wales, ,MuBE, ,Orange Dot Gallery, ,picasso, ,Pollock, ,Rauschenberg, ,Ray Johnson, ,Scared But Fresh, ,Surrealists, ,The Brooklyn Museum, ,The Queens Museum, ,van gogh, ,Warhol

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Amelia’s Magazine | An interview with American artist Matthew Rose


My situation (image courtesy of Matthew Rose)

Matthew Rose is an American artist living in Paris known for his 1, look 000 piece wall-to-wall collages. On viewing his work, purchase you can’t help but feel as if you are peering into the wrong end of a telescope; the objects look familiar yet distorted, eerie yet beautiful.

His abstract, artistic style presents a surreal and parallel world infused with vibrant colours where he often plays with an unusual fusion of subjects (and by this I mean a man with carrots for his head or a woman who is part-human, part-camera – pretty crazy stuff but in the most fantastic sense!).

For almost three decades, Matthew has been producing installations, which reinforce the connection between imagery and literature in art. His works – many of which are a composite of beautiful colours, visuals and text melting into one another – evoke the genres of 20th century surrealist artists, and several critics have cited his work as demonstrating a ‘dadaist exploration of sense and non-sense’.

Matthew’s installations have featured in galleries and museums across Europe, Asia and the United States, and his work has appeared in numerous books and magazines, including MASTERS: COLLAGE (Sterling Publishing/Lark Books, 2010) published recently.

His most notable art project to date, A Book About Death, showcased in New York’s Emily Harvey Foundation Gallery in September 2009. The show was a logistical feat involving thousands of artists from across the globe sending 500 artworks in the form of postcards to construct the exhibition. The beauty of the exhibition was that the end result was offered to one lucky visitor in the form of a book… for free. More than 18 exhibitions of A Book About Death have been staged worldwide, including The Queens Museum in New York, MuBE in São Paulo and MoMA Wales.


Private view invite (image courtesy of Matthew Rose and Orange Dot Gallery)

Matthew’s most recent project, Scared But Fresh, is a dislocated love story exploring the sense and non-sense, which I was lucky enough to catch at Orange Dot Gallery, a lovely new exhibition space in the heart of Bloomsbury. By his own admission, Matthew is interested in ‘creating works to see them for himself’ but as a by-product of his imagination, his mesmerising creations prompt the viewer to garner thoughts of their own.

After gate-crashing a Brown University reunion held at the gallery, where Matthew studied Semiotics in 1981, I managed to grab a quiet moment with the calm and composed artist before his alumni chums arrived, gaining a glimpse into the annals of the mind of a truly fascinating individual…

How old were you when you realised you wanted to be an artist?
I couldn’t have been more than six years old when my mother and aunt dragged me to The Brooklyn Museum to see Van Gogh. The lines went around the block and I couldn’t understand what the fuss was about; I was hungry, my feet hurt and being small, I was suffocating in this cloud of wool coats. Once inside the galleries, however, I caught my first glimpse of what has proven to be a very nourishing world… I stayed close to my mother and aunt for about 10 minutes but soon enough got lost (purposely) and quietly pushed my way through the crowds to get up close to Van Gogh’s brilliant colors, these vibrating landscapes – in particular, the painting he produced in the Arlesian sun, Almond Branches in Bloom (1890). It turned out to be one of the pieces he produced the year he died of a self-inflicted gun shot wound. I never forgot the color and intelligence behind this painting, and I slowly began to look for this “art experience” in my own.


Anglais (image courtesy of Matthew Rose)

What artists did you look up to when you were developing your artistic style?
Most artists I know were influenced by the early 20th century modernists – Picasso, Matisse, Malevich…then Duchamp and the Dadaists, the Surrealists, Pollock, de Kooning and then those who flavored the world we arrived in: Warhol, Johns, Rauschenberg. For me, probably folks like Hopper for his era and compositions and silence; and Cornell for his expansive internal universe, and mostly Ray Johnson, because he was a friend and teacher (as he was to thousands) and the way he worked. Since I mostly work in collage, I’m more prone to think in disparate images and texts, an old-fashioned multi-media stream of consciousness. I don’t have problems with dislocated images and lexical puzzles. Of course I don’t pretend that these artists are producing works of philosophy, but rather reflecting the cataclysm that stems from consciousness.

Your work often involves the use of collage – what led to this fascination and why do you like working in this particular abstract context?
Collage is just one of several mediums I work in. Over the years I’ve produced works/object in wax or wood, painting and drawing, and text pieces either as rubber stamp works (printing) or drawing the words. One of my interests is word as image, and collage permits me to combine words and images in a fairly rapid fashion. I tend to work super fast and produce series in a matter of days or weeks. I’m pretty obsessed once I get going and very little interferes with my process. I did a show some years ago called ‘Spelling With Scissors’, and this is my approach – combining literature (texts) with images. I have always discussed my aesthetic view as a form of reading.

What does working in collage allow you to express in ways that other forms of artistic expression cannot?
Speed. Strangeness. The wide array of material allows me to cover many ideas and compositional concepts in a short period of time. Painting plays a part in what I do, as does drawing and often these mediums come into play in a work. But collage is an approach to consciousness, and that, I think is the flux endpoint in my work. Most of the elements I use are found, and that, too, is an important part of my process. Seeing what the world washes up at my feet, the skidmarks of my time and place.


Scared But Fresh at Orange Dot Gallery (photography courtesy of Orange Dot Gallery)

What was the inspiration behind Scared But Fresh?
Scared But Fresh
is a love story. The works in the exhibition come together (in my mind, at least) to lay out a dislocated love story, a song about love with its insistent cacophony. I think if you look at the pieces in this exhibition, including the 12-piece collage on paper series, America, you’ll see sex, love and death (the staples of art making), you’ll discover heartache, lust, dread and all those angst-laden things that produce so much of the content of our lives. Or at least that’s the way I see it. Again, I produce these works to see them myself, to see what these odd elements produce in combination, and to perhaps understand what sort of stuff is moving around inside of me; that said, it’s not therapy, but rather an inquiry.

Why is the exhibition called Scared But Fresh?
Scared But Fresh was a phrase sent to me in 2002 by a friend; she signed an e mail that way. I immediately seized upon it, made a tonne of text works with it, cutting stencils and painting them, or adding it to other works, but also meditating upon its possible meanings. The “but” is critical. My thinking in using it for the title of this exhibition at Orange Dot Gallery in London was that it was so aggressive, sure but still loaded with innocence and dread. Like love.

Critics have previously cited your work as a dadaist exploration of sense and non-sense. What would your response be to this?
I would agree with them. Dada is many things, and has been the point of departure for nearly 100 years of art production. The combination of sense and non-sense, broken grammar, chopped up meaning, and the flux of everyday life is, in my view, what my consciousness is like. What is the sense of finding a dollar bill stuck in a pile of dog shit? Or posters torn and weathered revealing a history of pasting and perhaps, a history of beauty (the models featured in years of posters, bits of their faces and clothing revealed)? I grab onto these things and consider them. Other people think about interest rates and widget production, and so do I, but I do something quite different with the information, the images and the meaning of these things. A large piece I produced, Les Affaires (prints are on Keep Calm Gallery’s site), surveys all sorts of exchanges; it is about commerce in many ways. Another work, Immaculate Perception (also available as a print on Keep Calm Gallery), is a very simple surreal piece showing a girl blossoming from a lemon tree. It’s not very interesting to be logical all day long, plus logic is overrated.


Cornell Bottle (photography courtesy of Orange Dot Gallery)

How would you describe your own style of work?
I’m a cut and paste artist. But I try to be clear in my chaos. The style can be dada, neo-pop, surreal, but I think after all these years, it’s simply mine.

When you create art, do you do it in the frame of mind that it will be viewed by others or it is created as a visual form of a personal diary?
I create these things to see them for myself, to discover what this 1/2 face would look like with this 1/2 refrigerator. Or what would happen if this nice girl in her party dress would be like if she were wearing a steak for a head, or a pair of mechanical gears for breasts? I produce these works the way I play chess, carefully, but totally willing to take risks, totally willing to exchange queens, sacrifice pawns…not afraid to lose. As for a diary, I’m not sure about that, but I do work in books very often. Some of my series come in the form of 110-page visual novels like A Perfect Friend and Days Like These, People (drawings), Machines (drawings) and a dozen others. I feel not so much as if I’m making things for other people – again – but more for myself, and not to cure myself of anything other than the nightmare that is our world.

You are now based in France. Do you find that where you live has any influence on the themes that run through your work?
Living in France probably hasn’t altered in any significant way the themes that run through my work. Love, sex, death, anxiety, money will find you out no matter where you live. The material though is different. As I’m extremely interested in language, the plethora of printed materials in French, German, Spanish, Italian, English and other languages abounds here. I often find old beat up books tossed out on the street, or objects on the sidewalk. I can also play with a tonne of languages and I very much enjoy that. It’s the world. My studio is small and quiet and as I also live in the space I’m always up at 3 am working. Or I sleep then wake and work… something is always going on here, and should I need to go out, a walk proves a real fascination for me after a period of intense activity. “Holy smokes,” I’ll say to myself. “I live in France.” I sometimes forget that I actually live in this country.

What thoughts/feelings would you like viewers to go away with after they have been to your exhibition?
Well they tell me that they enjoy the work, they like that craziness of the work, but that it all makes sense. During the exhibition the head of a large international advertising company spent quite a while looking at my work. His focus is message communication, and in particularly creating iPhone apps, so he’s very attuned to visuals and text, and he said to me: “This is brilliant.” At the moment he was looking at a work from the America series of a girl on a swing with the word “HOME” pasted on top of her. She was pasted, in turn, on top of a photograph of a ship in a raging storm. That to me was very rewarding. Because something that was interesting to me was interesting to someone else, it was strong enough to click somewhere else.

How would you best like to be remembered?
You mean when I die? I launched an enormous project about this (in a way), A Book About Death. So I’ve thought long and hard about what its like to not have consciousness, to be left alone, to struggle with the impermanence of life, and the often sad and painful lives we lead when the folks we love are no longer with us. I’ve tried not to turn away from death and acknowledge it. Maybe as someone who wasn’t afraid to confront his demons, loved his friends and collaborated with the world in a way that made a little bit more sense out of the nonsense.

Categories ,A Book About Death, ,Brown University, ,Cornell, ,Dadaists, ,de Kooning, ,Duchamp, ,Emily Harvey Foundation Gallery, ,Hopper, ,Johns, ,Kat Phan, ,Keep Calm Gallery, ,Malevich, ,matisse, ,Matthew Rose, ,MoMA Wales, ,MuBE, ,Orange Dot Gallery, ,picasso, ,Pollock, ,Rauschenberg, ,Ray Johnson, ,Scared But Fresh, ,Surrealists, ,The Brooklyn Museum, ,The Queens Museum, ,van gogh, ,Warhol

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