There was an ‘a-ha’ moment for you during a printmaking class in college. Was did your teacher do that made you feel heard/seen?
I don’t think it was one moment, but a series. I had this teacher, David Johnson. He retired last year and I’m still in touch with him. He was a legitimate weirdo, but very funny. What he exposed me to was this world of people who made art that you’re not going to see in Artforum. You’re not going to see them in a big white-wall gallery, but they’re making important work. I ran with that. It was parallel to the kind of music I was into.
The printmaking room smelled like ink and oil. It wasn’t this romantic or conceptual thing, it was a workshop. You’d go in there late at night, just you and a couple other dudes, listening to John Coltrane records and working on a lithograph. It’s just a vibe. There was a feeling that these were my people, I had found them.</a>
You had a visual.
That’s what’s important to see, someone setting an example. He was always making work. You could see how important drawing was to him. You wanted to keep up.
You’ve taught a handful of workshops and classes. Do you have a teaching philosophy?
The first several, I was in over my head and bullshitted my way into. I want to level the playing field and demonstrate that I don’t think anybody knows what they’re doing. There’s people that do things for a long time and have some things figured out, but we’re all just trying to make stuff. I try to eliminate that hierarchy and shine a light on the bigger picture – this is some of the most important stuff to do with your life. You’re doing something creative, meaningful, and it feeds you. It fills your cup a bit.
At the same time, it doesn’t matter. None of this matters. Why be afraid to take a risk? Why be afraid to try something? If you fail or you look stupid, who cares? It doesn’t matter. We’re all going to be dust any minute.
What did finding art, music, etc. look like for you as a kid?
It was just me and my mom for the most part. I saw my dad a lot, everybody’s cool. I had a lot of alone time. I’m a classic latchkey kid – watching everything that’s on HBO this summer, every music video. But I was also outdoors with my friends, hanging out behind shopping malls, going to newsstands and absorbing any and all pre-internet information. Pulling on those threads, seeing where they came up.
Like opening a skateboarding magazine; what’s this band called fIREHOSE? Why is the F little in the name? What does that mean? My parents are super cool. Mom was very, “Do whatever. I’ll drive you to that skateboard contest. I’ll let you go to that concert.” She would take me to movies every weekend. We kind of lived like roommates.
My uncle, my dad’s younger brother, lived in Texas but was this cool figure to me. He had long hair, a beard, and could draw well. There’s this cool pen and ink drawing he had up at my grandma’s house. He did cartoons, could do a handstand on his skateboard, just thought he was the coolest.
You were drawn to skate companies with consistency of look and feel. How do you carry that into your own work?
For me it’s like throwing Scrabble letters on a board. You dump the bucket out, some things resonate and repeat. I have recognized things I’ve done that continue to resonate with me, or that continue to ring that bell.
For a long time I tried to separate visual art and playing songs. That’s the dumbest thing you could do. I realized how words respond to drawings, how they’re all one thing. You can make a drawing the name of a song, or vice versa. I’ve discovered my personal themes. Again, threads that I keep wanting to pull on. They’ve snaked through all the way back to college or before.
It’s identifying threads and then digging a little deeper, taking them further. It’s a discovery process I wasn’t able to put my finger on until recently. Sort of like carving yourself out of a big block of stone, it starts to reveal itself bit by bit.
This makes me think of other musicians/visual artists (Michael Hurley, John Andrews) who use recurring characters. Do you have these?
I’m a big fan of those artists. Another great one is Kyle Field. I’m biased, he’s a good friend, but he’s also one of my favorite artists on Earth. The way he can push themes and characters into song, onto paper, and through his worlds while they continue to resonate and grow. With Hurley, there’s Snock. I don’t have a Snock, but I have icons that keep coming back. Whether it’s a figure, a bird, or a hand. Sometimes that boils down to, “Oh, this is something I like to draw.” That’s true, but there’s another reason I don’t have my finger on yet. That’s good because I can continue to circle it and see what pops up.
