Pretty Average Blowout, 2015. Acrylic paint on canvas. 18" x 25" x 4."
MATTHEW HILSHORST's "sincerely pessimistic" work includes painting, sculpture and a plethora of hobby craft techniques—latch-hook rugs, bottle cap murals, and electrical wire "paintings"—that sit right on the boundary between painting and sculpture. He conflates the grid of gingham tablecloths and latch-hook rug canvases with the grid of Modernist Abstract painting. His sculptural shrouds, towels and cakes made entirely of paint explore themes of gravity, decay and longevity. Matt earned his BFA in Painting from the University of Minnesota, Minneapolis/St. Paul. He went on to earn both a Post Baccalaureate Certificate and an MFA in Painting from The School of the Art Institute of Chicago. His work has been including in exhibitions at Sidecar Gallery (Hammond, Indiana, 2016), Indianapolis Museum of Contemporary Art (2015) and Peregrine Program (Chicago, 2013). Matt lives and works in Chicago.
OtherPeoplesPixels: What role does mimicry play in your work?
Matthew Hilshorst:
I don't know if mimicry would be the right word. I am definitely trying
to copy something or copy a technique in the way I make a thing though.
It is more a form of flattery or reverence for the object and the way
in which it is made. Real admiration led me to carve two egg beaters out
of wood and then spray painted them chrome. I made them as realistic as
possible so that they really represent nothing more than egg beaters. I
love banal objects that someone painstakingly designed. I had Egg Beaters
up on display at an office building downtown for almost a year. When I
finally removed them people told me they had been trying to wrap their
heads around why I simply put egg beaters up on a shelf. When I told
them they were super delicate wood carvings, they were shocked. It
immediately and completely changed their view of what they had been
trying to understand.
Egg Beaters, 2003. Carved wood and spray paint. 7" x 1.5" x 1.5."
OPP: Are these works ironic or sincere? Is that question even relevant anymore in the way it was at the time they were made?
MH:
It is still a relevant question. Those past works are completely
sincere, although it may be read as ironic when the sarcasm or pessimism
represented is misunderstood. I spend months and sometimes years
creating individual pieces, so putting all that time and effort into
creating something, it can't help but be sincere. I love making work
that is task-oriented. Making a work that's too simplistic can feel
unrewarding, while making a work without a preconceived notion leaves me
overwhelmed and unable to begin. I try to give myself a new challenge
with every piece, but I always know there is an end point before I
start. I recently completed an 8'11" long stained and worn red carpet
made of latch-hooked paint. It took me nearly two years to complete. 8'11"
is an odd length, but it is as long as the tallest man to have lived
was tall. The other measurements of the carpet are in relation to my own
body. How it hangs partially on a wall and partially on the floor is
also important. I consider every aspect of a work before I make it;
little to nothing is arbitrary. But that doesn't always mean I get
exactly what I intended. There are always challenges, set backs, and
aspects I could have never anticipated.
Much of my work will have
a craft look to it because the methods I use to create it are a main
component of it. In other words, the process I use to make something is
definitely part of the content. The carpets, rugs, towels, and welcome
mats are my way of painting a thing where each latch-hooked piece is
also a brush stroke, and each brush stroke represents a thread. I do
paint very realistically with oil paint too, but I rarely get excited
about doing it. I prefer to not represent something in two dimensions.
The physical object is so much more satisfying than a representation of
it. As I say that though, I'm working on a new group of oil paintings.
Ha.
The Red Carpet, 2016. acrylic paint and flocking fibers. 8'11."
OPP: What’s the new work about?
MH: The oil
paintings? Bingo. Seriously. The new acrylic work is more about hostile
hospitality. Lots of different takes on welcome mats and entry rugs. In
the same way that throw-away gingham tablecloths physically display
"Americana," so do welcome mats. Thinking about the United States being
so unwelcoming to refugees and immigrants has really permeated my new
work, it would seem.
Worn Out Hand Towel, 2014. Acrylic paint on towel bar. 16" x 20" as displayed.
OPP: Captured Unicorn (2013) and Snake in the Grass
(2013) are latch hook rugs in the conventional sense of the word. They
are cut yarn attached to a gridded canvas, creating a shaggy surface.
What’s different about Welcome Mat (2014) and Worn Out Hand Towel (2014)?
MH: I originally created Captured Unicorn for a medieval themed show at Bureau in New York and Snake in the Grass was made for a show here in Chicago at Peregrine Program.
Both rugs were a new direction for me that ultimately greatly
influenced most of my future work and methods of production. My work has
been described to me as "basement art,” and I think that gets back to
sincerity and irony so I decided to go full-on basement craft for my
first latch hooked rugs. Both shows had a dedicated theme, so I was able
to get away from traditional painting or sculpture and have some fun
with fibers for those two shows.
I switched to latch hooking
paint because I wanted to work with a larger color palette. I was going
to start hand-dyeing and spinning my own yarn, but that started to seem
like more of a drag as far as tasks go and made something simple like a
latch hook rug way too complicated. Figuring out what ratio of paint to
medium I needed, making endless tests, and learning that acrylic paint
does not like getting colder than 50 degrees Fahrenheit presented
challenges, but I knew I could easily manipulate color using paint which
was my ultimate concern. I like making objects out of 100% paint
because of its plastic perfection. It's also a great way to represent a
functional object that only functions as art. Using only paint makes me
contemplate gravity, time, and longevity, which have been underlying
themes in all of my work. I make my own grid out of paint that I
latch-hook into, removing a canvas or a separate support system for my
paintings. Many of my paintings have to be viewed from above and can be
displayed in many different, irreverent ways; they don't just hang on a
wall.
Red Gradation, 2011. Acrylic paint on vinyl tablecloth on stretched canvas. 40" diameter.
OPP: What does the grid mean to you in works like Sagging Tablecloth (2010), Red Gradation and Green Gradation (2011) and Access (2013)? How do the shrouds and Thrown Paint, all from 2014, and Smear (2015) add to this conversation?
MH:
I was shopping at an Ace Hardware store that was going out of business
(probably late 2003) when I first started at the School of the Art
Institute of Chicago. There was a bin full of gingham patterned vinyl
tablecloths, and I bought the whole pile of them. I hung them up in my
studio and was mesmerized by the colors and the pattern. I sat staring
and contemplating them off and on for a solid semester. They seemed to
incorporate all the ideas that were in my head. They were mathematical
and perfectly measured. Time and space were involved in their flatness
and their infinite pattern. And they contained patterns within patterns.
The tablecloths were bright and in basic colors, equally straddling
ideas associated with Op Art, Pop Art, and Minimalism. The gingham
pattern also has embedded cultural associations like American idealism,
gatherings, mass production, eating, our throw-away culture, and classic
picnics.
Originally, I painted pointillist landscapes on them
by only using the squares in between the red checks and white checks. I
wanted to create imagery that was ghostly and barely visible by hiding
it within the pattern of the tablecloth, but in no way disrupting the
grid. Those works aren't up on my website because I did the ghostly
thing too well—they don't photograph well, or really at all, ha. I then
started to create more pattern-based work like the two circular
gradations, because it was more visually impactful than the landscapes.
The grid continues to play a major role in all my other work including
the bottle cap murals, the gridded structure of a latch-hook work, the
layers to my graph paper cut outs, smear, the shrouds. I wish I could
wrap my head around the fascination with grids, but it seems like some
sort of micro/macro truth in organization that verges on spiritual.
Basically, it seems to hold some sort very deep secret that I can't
understand, so I’m constantly coming back to it and exploring it.
Checkered Drawing 1, 2008. Color pencil on paper. 18" x 24."
OPP: Talk to us about cake and about your cake sculptures and paintings.
MH: The cake paintings bring me back to craft and the method
of making things. They came about while I was making my first all paint
works. I use a piping bag to create my paint latch hook rugs and towels
as well as Caught, Smear, and the Shrouds.
I decided that since I was using a technique used for decorating cakes,
a cake with a phrase or appropriate decoration could be powerful as a
painting.
The cakes have messages about time, aging, gender, and
gender roles in their construction. I grew up always being encouraged
to be creative, but I was discouraged from being in the kitchen. I would
have much preferred to watch and help my mom cook, but my place was in
my dad’s wood shop. I made Con to bring up questions of gender
roles, gender assignment and gender restrictions. Much like the
tablecloth paintings straddle different art movements, I also wanted Con to be a yin and yang of Pop Art and Abstract Expressionism. The Pieces of cake that seem to have been cut from Con
are all in some way ruined. Maybe someone has run their finger through
the frosting, a fly has landed on it, or a cigarette has been put out in
it. Gender is brought up again in Pretty Average Blowout where
80 flaccid candles have been extinguished. This cake refers to the 80
years an average adult male in the United States can look forward to
living. Once time and gravity take their toll, your celebrations are
over.
I'm generally an optimistic person but my work has become
sentimental and sometimes literally drips sarcasm. I guess it is
sincerely pessimistic! That seems to be even more prevalent in recent
work, especially since the election.
Con, 2015. Acrylic paint on canvas mounted on cardboard. 20" x 25" x 5."
OPP: What’s happening in your studio right now? How are current political events affecting your practice?
MH:
These current and pressing concerns have affected my newest work for
sure. Overall, it’s becoming darker and almost nasty. . . but in a good
way. These last few months, it has been really hard to concentrate and
get to work in my studio. For at least a month after the election, every
time I set foot in there, I struggled with the question, why is this important?
Then I went to D.C. to protest the Trump inauguration and to walk with
my sister and many friends in the Women's March. It sounds cheesy, but
it was such a powerful and positive experience that when I came back to
Chicago, I felt I needed to try to do something more.
It's only
been a week since I've returned, but I contacted two other artist
friends who had also been in D.C. and asked if they were in a resistance
group. If they were, I wanted to join, and if they weren't, I wanted us
to start one. There are now five of us dedicated to inviting people to
create a group that will encourage and promote creativity,
accountability, information sharing, and a way to make more of a visual
impact around the city and at protests. As much as we kind of cringed at
the look of the pussy hats,
we all loved that people came together and each created a handmade pink
hat which was worn as a unified front. We hope to invite many and
become a group that channels the creativity of the Chicago artist
community for good against evil.
Featured Artist Interviews are conducted by Chicago-based artist Stacia Yeapanis. When she’s not writing for OPP, Stacia explores the relationship between repetition, desire and impermanence in cross-stitch embroideries, remix video, collage and impermanent installations. She is an Adjunct Assistant Professor in the Department of Fiber and Material Studies at The School of the Art Institute of Chicago, where received her MFA in 2006, and was a 2011-2012 Artist-in-Residence at BOLT in Chicago. Her solo exhibitions include shows at Siena Heights University (2013), Heaven Gallery (2014) and the Annex Gallery at Lillstreet Art Center (2014). She created site-responsive installations for Form Unbound (2015) at Dominican University and SENTIENCE (2016) at The Ukrainian Institute of Modern Art. Stacia is currently preparing for a two-person show titled Resist the Urge to Press Forward with Brent Fogt at Riverside Art Center (Riverside, Illinois) and Sacred Secular, a solo show at Indianapolis Arts Center in Indiana.