Photo by Chistopher Patronella Jr.
of The Houston Press.
Jason Ransom, the artist I spoke of in my last post, was recently interviewed by Christopher Patronella, Jr. of The Houston Press. The article ran in the popular Art Attack blog section, as part of the 100 Creatives series. I thought it would be interesting for those that have seen images of Jason's work to repost that interview below.
***********************
on June 16, 2011.
What he does:
A 2011 Hunting Art Prize finalist, Jason Ransom is a painter with a dynamic style that throws the viewer into a frenzy of emotion. He is as much a painter as he is a sculptor -- using a palette knife and a brush to etch and carve his way through the thick layers of oil, he creates forms that leap off the canvas and into your physical space.
Sitting in the spotlit studio, surrounded by mysterious figures jumping from all directions, you begin to feel the power of the crude forms taking shape in the darkness.
"I want to express this really raw emotion," Ransom says. "Initially, it was about trying to find this image in a large amount of paint instead of going in with a set idea, to just move the paint around and find the image...if something didn't speak true to me I would just scrape it off and start over...leaving this ghost image on the canvas that gives you something to work from."
Head of C.J.R.
It's a constant search for an image that takes on a life of its own, what Bomberg called the "spirit in the mass," he says. "And it may not necessarily be completed, it just says exactly what I need it to say...it's about that initial emotional impact it makes, and if it does that for me, the painting is finished.
Gravitating from thick textures to a thinner paint in his newest work, he's allowing for more subtleties to tell the stories bound in the forms.
"I feel I can do more with it," Ransom said. "A lot of times you can hide behind the thick paint, but with the thinner, you're pretty much out there."
Untitled R1.
Why he likes it: Painting brings peace and purpose to life, Ransom says, but it isn't about self-therapy.
"It's about making paintings that people can personally relate to, that they relate to the emotions, and it helps me in return...having it on canvas in front of you makes things a bit easier to deal with than having everything inside.
"When you're trying to fill this internal stuff with a bunch of external things, a lot of external doing, it never really makes a dent...it's like pouring water into a bucket that doesn't have a bottom...and that's what I like about painting, it comes from the inside first, and then it's actualized on the canvas."
Self Portrait 1.
What inspires him: Wrestling with anxiety and depression for many years, Ransom sought help as he was overwhelmed by a sense of loss and confusion in his life. During this time, he first saw Vincent van Gogh's
Portrait of Patience Escalier. Captivated by the use of texture and pigments, he was moved to study artists who evoked this same sentiment, looking further to the emotions flowing from the lines in the sculptures of Rodin. Ransom captures this emotive action in the movement, color and texture of his pantings.
Pictures of their work as well as those of Monticelli, Giacometti, Bernini, Sickert, and Rembrandt fill the space around him -- a constant reminder of the weight of their energy and ability to communicate through the medium.
"It tells me that I can't allow myself to settle for some type of mediocrity," Ransom says. "I would much rather destroy a good painting in hopes of a great painting, and my desire is to settle for nothing less...it constantly gives me something to strive towards."
The paintings are not some contrived idea, statement or gimmick, he says; the work is as much about the emotional resonance as it is about the insignificance of the subject and perfection of technique. The movement and the colors of the paint are what speak.
"The figures or the subject of the painting are sort of irrelevant to me -- I just use it as this kind of vehicle to express a certain emotion. I do try to keep things a bit ambiguous because when you're looking at it you don't know exactly what's going on, it just strikes a chord, and in that way it allows people to inject their own feelings into the painting and make up whatever kind of story they want."
If not this, then what? "No. There's nothing," Ransom said. "I can't think of anything else that I would rather do. Without painting, I would be completely lost. Nothing fills the void like painting does."
As a child, Houston artist James Perez was exposed to an extremist religious cult known as The Children of God (C.O.G.) where he experienced radical expression of organized Christianity in its most bohemian form. Documented in the book Heaven’s Harlots: My Fifteen Years in a Sex Cult, C.O.G. encouraged prostitution of its female members to raise money for the cult and as a means of finding lost souls with which to share the Word of God. Like some modern Christian cults today, C.O.G. also believed in alien foundations for humanity. Under intense scrutiny in the 1980s for its leadership under Moses David, the group was reformed and became known as The Family, which still exists today. Child survivors of the cult have established forums for expression and communal outcry against the psychological and sexual abuses they sustained under the watchful eye of this Christian sect, often sadly ending in murder and suicide. Exposure to this communal religious group from an early age predisposed James to a hardened view of the dangers and psychological damage that organized religion can inflict. James’ art is for him, personally, a way of reminding himself that the messages we receive through organized religion are the design of man, and that they are set apart from belief or disbelief in God.
