7 Photos
[caption id="attachment_55856" align="alignnone" width="800"] April Gornik and Eric Fischl's twin studios by Joe Fig.[/caption]
By Michelle Trauring
It is no secret what Joe Fig does as an artist. Some people just haven’t caught on yet—including the powers that be behind Rizzoli.
The publishing house was working on a book about artist Jackson Pollock when they contacted Mr. Fig for additional photos of the famed abstract expressionist in his Springs studio. He wrote them back, asking if they knew what they were actually looking at was a meticulous, hyper-realistic sculpture no larger than a dollhouse.
Suffice it to say, they didn’t.
“I don’t hide the fact that they are photos of miniatures,” Mr. Fig said. “So when people don’t realize it, it’s funny. The photo of Jackson Pollock has gotten the most traction. It has been used—often without my consent—on articles about him. Even Dan’s Papers used it.”
To date, Mr. Fig has visited hundreds of artists in their studios—among them are East End fixtures Chuck Close, Ross Bleckner, Malcolm Morely, Eric Fischl, April Gornik, Mary Heilmann, Jane Freilicher, Steve Miller, Donald Lipski and Peter Campus—in order to recreate what he sees on a much smaller scale, which he will discuss on Friday at the Parrish Art Museum in Water Mill.
But first, the Long Island native caught up with The Sag Harbor Express to talk all things miniature models, early beginnings and the God complex that comes from peering into an artist’s studio.
The Sag Harbor Express: Did you get out to the Hamptons at all as a child, being that you're from Seaford?
Joe Fig: When I was in high school and could finally drive, my friends and me would often go out east. Since I was interested in art as well as history, I knew a bit about the East End as a haven for artists. Seaford was settled in 1643 and being on the South Shore, we grew up clamming and fishing. Out east, I was probably more interested in the fishermen and history rather than museums. Billy Joel was big and his early albums about Long Island were resonant.
When did you realize you were artistic?
A question I ask all artists I interview is "Do you remember an early artwork that got recognition?" I ask that because—to answer your question—for me that would have been in nursery school. The project was to fold a paper into a cone and make an Indian teepee out of it. I drew an Indian sitting by a fire on the inside of the paper so that when you peeked in through the opening you could see him. That got a lot of praise. Once in school, I was always receiving awards for art. However, my identical twin brother did as well, so I never thought it was a big deal. We both just liked to draw.
Why did you decide to pursue art professionally?
Naiveté. I had no idea what it meant to be an artist or how you could make a living. However, I quickly realized that commercial art was not for me and that that was also very difficult to make a career in. I went to School of Visual Arts—SVA was a great education and being in New York City, in SoHo, in the ’80s was a great time. I fell in love with it. I dove right in and haven’t looked back.
[caption id="attachment_55854" align="alignright" width="545"]
Chuck Close studio by Joe Fig.[/caption]
What attracted you to representational work?
At first I wanted to learn to work representationally because all the great abstract artists were trained that way. I thought abstraction was what you should be doing, but I wanted the fundamentals first to then lead me into abstraction. However, when I was an undergraduate student at SVA, figurative painting was dead. The only figurative contemporary artists at that time that I could relate to were Eric Fischl, David Salle and Red Grooms. Eventually I realized I liked a narrative in my work. I'm a storyteller.
I'd like to add that it's so great to see the current show at the Parrish with those paintings by Fischl and Salle that were so influential to my development.
What made you transition into models?
I had always worked in sculpture while also working in painting. For the first 10 years of my "career," I was a painter. Then in 1999, I literally came to an end in what I was interested in. So I spent about a year trying to find the next thing. Within that period, my sister-in-law got married. My wife asked me to make about a dozen snow globes filled with vignettes about their engagement. My wife got the snow globe kit from a Martha Stewart catalog. That got me working in miniature and with polymer clay.
During this time of transition, I saw an Alice Neel retrospective at the Whitney. I love Alice Neel. For some reason I thought, "What if I make Alice Neel in a snow globe?" So I did. I liked it, but it was a bit "cartoony" and too small. But I liked the idea of the artist in their studio. Concurrently, I had just started graduate school and was looking at all the micro studios of my fellow students. I began to look at the studio and their process and question if they were related.
How exactly do you make them?
It all starts with a studio visit. I sit down with an artist and conduct and record and interview. The questions focus on the real day-to-day practicalities of being an artist, and even go back to the beginning. Where did they grow up, go to school, how did they get their first gallery, how did they set up their studio, what materials do they use, describe a typical day, do they listen to music or watch TV, et cetera.
After the interview, I photograph, measure and record everything in their space. I take lots of photographs and notes.
Then I go back to my own studio and compose what I want. How much of the studio do I want to show? Will it include a figure? Meanwhile, I'm editing the audio interview and transcribing it. So the whole while I have the artists’ voices in my head. Then I basically keep working until there is nothing left to include in the sculpture. Done. Lastly, if it lends itself to it, I will photograph the sculpture to be shown as a photograph. However, not all sculptures work as photos.
[caption id="attachment_55859" align="alignnone" width="800"]
Ross Bloeckner studio by Joe Fig.[/caption]
How long does each model take?
Anywhere from a few weeks to few months. The sculpture of Eric Fischl and April Gornik's dual studios at the Parrish took the longest, about nine months.
What materials do you use?
I use polymer clay for the figures, paint tubes and some other sculptable items. I have a mini lumber yard of bass wood that I use to make tables, chairs, beams, et cetera. A lot of plastics and tubing, things from a hobby shop, various types of papers. I'm always looking for a material that can scale down. For example to make paper towels, I use a plastic dowel and then I found McDonalds napkins have the right weave at that scale. Regarding tools, mostly it's an exacto knife, scissors, paints, a mini saw and my hands.
How do you decide which artists to visit? And then which ones to recreate?
I cast a wide net. Generally they are artists I admire. Then artists will recommend other artists. I could meet with an artist I know by name but might not be drawn to their work. However, through the studio visit process, it gives me a way in and I inevitably come away with a great insight … Hopefully.
Not all studios are worth creating. Some are just visually boring or are more like machine shops. It's mostly a visual thing. I love painters’ studios. Sometimes, instead of a sculpture, I may make a painting.
[caption id="attachment_55857" align="alignright" width="598"]
April Gornik studio by Joe Fig.[/caption]
You ask the artists not to clean up before you visit them. Do they agree to that?
They do comply. I ask them to do that because I don’t like the sanitized versions of studios you often see in coffee table books or glam magazines. I want the studio to look as if the artist just stepped away for a second from whatever they were working on. Real life, not made up.
What are two or three of the most memorable studios you've visited?
Eric Fischl and April Gornik's by far. First off, I can't express how thankful I am to them. They are extremely generous and kind. Their studios are gorgeous and I loved how they were tandem, side by side. Big, spacious, with lots of light.
Then I would have to say Chuck Close's old Bridgehampton studio and Ross Bleckner's Sagaponack studio. They’re memorable for two reasons. First, these are artists I greatly admire. So to have access to their studios, interview them, hang out and really get a feel for how they work in that space was just great. It's a bit like walking in their footsteps.
Second, I made big, ambitious sculptures of all these studios, working on them for months at end. During the time I'm making these, that’s all I think about. Maybe I get into their heads? Or they get into mine. So I'm literally building their spaces from the ground up and inhabiting them in a way—also listening to their interviews, so their voices are all around.
What did the studios have in common?
Space, light, feel. Very comfortable, but not showy, very much a workspace.
How do the visits typically go?
Generally if an artist agrees to meet with me, they know what to expect. The generosity of spirit that artists have shown me is overwhelming. In most cases, when I leave an artists studio I think "Oh my God! They are the best artist ever!” Until I go to the next studio.
What does learning about an artist's studio say about the artist?
I look at these as portraits, or an "indirect" portrait. It's looking at space and how someone functions in it. Does that show their personality? It's not much different than going into someone’s house. You get a feel for them. Each artist is different, so each studio will be somewhat different. Ross Bleckner is very neat, very organized and very much into routine. He cleans up at the end of every day. You can see that in his studio. How he lays out his paints and brushes. He's said something like, “The organization in my studio is like the organization in my head.”
What do you think your own studio says about you?
My own studio is the old Collins Axe factory building in Collinsville, Connecticut. An old New England mill town. I moved there five years ago. It's funky and old. Yet neat and organized. It's a great place to make a mess in. Plus, it’s big and cheap. My friends in New York would kill for it. I like to be organized.
How did your two books come to be? The first wasn't particularly planned, correct?
Correct. In 2006, I had a show at then Plus Ultra Gallery in New York. The show included 16 sculptures of painters painting tables, plus the sculpture of April and Eric. In that show, I added the audio interview component to the sculpture. So, you could look at an artist’s studio and then hear them talking about it. That show got a lot of attention. So basically the first book came about due to the byproducts of my process. I had all these interviews, documentary photographs and then my own work. Somehow it all just worked. The first book, “Inside the Painter's Studio,” came out in 2009. To my surprise, it still sells on a consistent basis and is in its seventh printing.
Fast forward a few years and I move to Connecticut. On a trip back to New York City, I visit a friend—a fellow artist—and realize how much I missed that connection. So I approached my publisher, Princeton Architectural Press, and they were thrilled to have a follow-up book. So the second book was a bit more deliberate. That book, “Inside the Artist's Studio,” is a mix of artists working in painting, sculpture, photography, video, performance and also digs a bit deeper into how they became who they are.
Why do you think people are fascinated by miniatures?
People like miniatures. It gives the viewer a God's eye view. Maybe it takes you back to being a child and playing. It's a way to show a viewer an expansive area in a relatively small space. I was not into miniatures as a kid, but I did play with GI Joes.
What are you working on next?
As a representational artist, you're always looking for a subject, something to grasp onto. I spent the past half year searching, trying various subjects. Finally, I feel like it's coming into focus. I'm back to painting, working on a series based on art openings and how people view artwork. I feel like it could carry me through the next year or so. However, I'm still flushing out the idea.
Joe Fig will discuss his work during “Inside the Artist’s Studio” on Friday, September 23, at 6 p.m. at the Parrish Art Museum in Water Mill. A book signing will follow. Admission is $10, or free for children, students and members. For more information, visit parrishart.org.
gavinmenu on Sep 21, 2016