Where is your studio?
It’s in our house, which I love because I can just come downstairs and work. A lot of times, if I’m in here all day, I can’t see things clearly anymore. But I can go upstairs, have dinner, come down for a few minutes. I often won’t turn the lights on, just the hallway or the stairwell light, so it’s really dim in the studio, and that’s helpful to see things more clearly. And in that moment, I’ll be like, “OK, this has to change, that has to change.”
What materials do you use?
I use newspapers—a lot of newspapers. I get [them] from friends and neighbors. And certain newspapers are better than others. I like the New York Times better than the [San Francisco] Chronicle, even though I use both. I use papier-mâché because technically it’s pretty easy. It doesn’t take a lot of equipment, and I can do it by myself.
For my glue, I use wallpaper paste mixed with Elmer’s glue and water. And then, finally, gesso and acrylic paint. But the gesso and paint don’t come in until late in the process.
This interview appears in Issue 33 of Alta Journal.
SUBSCRIBE
How do you find inspiration?
I like looking at fashion shows online, even though I’m not a fashionable person. I find they can be very inspiring—the color, the shapes.
Does it ever get lonely in the studio?
No, never. I think one of the reasons I’m an artist is I like to be alone. Though I do talk on the phone a lot when I’m working. Today I was talking to my friend Michael, who’s an art historian in New York. I was papering the entire day, and he said, “I don’t understand. How do you just do that every day?” The answer is I don’t know. To be clear, after a full day in the studio, I might be sick of papier-mâché, but by the next morning, I’ll say, “Oh, OK. Let’s go.”
Is there an emotion that you want to convey in your work?
Sometimes there’s a feeling. I’ll see a show or I’ll hear a piece of music, and I think, Oh, I’m sort of curious about that. But really, it’s not even that specific. It changes so much over the process. For me, the idea is that I start the process and then I find what the thing is. That’s part of the struggle—letting it be what it’s going to be. A piece sort of slowly comes into focus, like a Polaroid photo. At first, the sculpture could be anything, and that’s an exciting time. Anything is possible. I can even think that it will blow my mind. And then reality creeps in.•
Brent Hatcher is the art director of Alta Journal. Previously, he was a graphics editor at the New York Times and the art director of Red Herring magazine. He completed his master of architecture degree in 2007 and has since worked on many projects throughout the Bay Area with his firm, 07 Studios.
