Aaron Delehanty
With only a few days left of Aaron Delehanty's exhibition, Visible City: Map Room, Ariel Radock discusses with him his thoughts and inspirations for his large-scale paintings of his own made-up city.
The Squirrels of City Park, 48 inches by 54 inches, Oil and pastel on canvas, 2010
by Ariel Radock
Fill In The Blank Gallery: Italo Calvino’s “Invisible Cities” is the story of a conversation between Marco Polo and Kublai Khan. Neither speak a common language therefore the description of the various cities Marco Polo has visited must be told through the use of objects. This leaves great room for interpretation and imagination. Do you believe that cities are real because we are told about their existence or do you feel that they exist because we imagine them to be so?
Aaron Delehanty: I love that book! And the great twist in it is that Marco Polo isn't describing various and different cities, but just one—Venice. All the cities he seems to describe are incredibly various and multi-faceted. If you take each story alone it gives the impression that one can describe a city in a one or two page poem, but then Calvino pulls the rug out from under us and reveals that his book is an allegory to how varied and layered city's are.
And I think Calvino here succeeds in presenting cities for what they are—complex, varied, moody, temperamental, multi-faced organisms.
To answer your question, I would say yes to both. We know cities exist out there. There is, of course the city that is made of brick, concrete and metal, etc.
But it is the city of our thoughts that is subjective enough to only exist in our imagination, almost like a dreamscape. Take me for instance. I am an artist in Chicago so I see and imagine this city as I need it exist—I see the gallery system, I do weird art shit with my artist friends so I notice places where we can do our weird stuff, I teach art-classes so I see Chicago's student population, I'm a new father so for the first time playgrounds are now visible…I do not, nor will I be able to imagine other parts of Chicago. For instance I will never be able to imagine or see the Chicago of woman's fashion, nor do I see the city of, say, drag racing or drug trafficking. Those facets of Chicago do exist, but they are invisible to me.
That’s what I took from the word Invisible used in the book's title, I believe Marco is describing the city of Venice he saw on each of his visits. The title for my project is a play on that. Visible City is a place and time that people have woken out of a slumber and can see acts of human behavior that have remained invisible.
Image from Visible City Map series, 24 by 16.5 inches, ink, guache, colored pencil, oil, and beeswax on paper, 2009
FIB: While working on the paintings, city maps, and brochures for the “Visible City” project, what experience are you trying to create for the viewer?
AD: I do think a lot about the tradition of landscape painting, and I always question what it means to be a contemporary Landscape painter, how can this form of painting be 21st century, what makes it something that people in the 22nd century can look at as being representative of our times.
I think about how humans today are much more familiar with not only the land around them but with all sorts of details of spaces they have never traveled. Give me an hour and an Internet connection and I can tell you all about the geology of Krysicstan, its mineral deposits, the demographics of the people, its ecology, etc. So the role of the landscape painter has changed, he or she doesn’t need to fill the imaginative holes in space that they used to.
Our understanding and experience of Landscape today is hyper-complex. I find things interesting like the imperial conquest of the Hard Rock Café. They stamp their logo and city name on tee-shirts; people wear them around like merit badges of the cities they have been to. And some how this makes the world feel smaller, tamable. I can see the whole mass of those tee-shirts collectively being one gigantic kinetic landscape painting in itself.
Flock (Visible City), 66 by 96 inches, Egg-oil emulsion, oil, beeswax on linen, 2008-09
FIB: The tradition of landscape and cityscape painting is very old. Historically, we can denote upon numerous schools of art in the East and the West who solely focus upon such subjects. Do you believe that your work resounds more philosophically towards to western approach or the eastern tradition of this genre?
AD: I don’t think it would be at all possible to be able to fully respond philosophically in the eastern tradition, as a man raised and immersed in the western world. If I took on the philosophy of the East then it would only be because of a rejection against the western approach. That sort of disrespect for tradition would somehow make me more western.
FIB: What is your favorite memory of interacting with nature in an urban setting?
AD: I have never done it, my wife has made me promise her I would never do it, but the running of the bulls in Spain—a constructed situation where the animal world and the urban world are intentionally put in violent conflict! It's just fucking bizarre!
Sound, Egg-oil emulsion, oil, beeswax on linen. 80" x 60"
FIB: A variety of different cultures in many eras believe birds to possess particular meaning. Whether this assigned value is positive or negative, birds nevertheless remain universal symbols. Often, your work depicts birds soaring over an aerial view of a city. What more can you tell us about this deliberate choice of perspective and the inclusion of such powerful mythology?
AD: The birds in my work are stand-ins for people. Take for example the pigeons soaring around in Flock (visible city). Like some crazed smoke we see in the foreground a flock of pigeons converging, but it appears to be dismantling too, its chaotic and controlled at the same time. The city below is organized in concentric circles of streets—showing how humans flock together. Somehow the birds allow us to see human behavior and animal behavior as being one in the same. The choice of a high perspective removes the viewer from the immediate drama of the here-and-now, reminding them of their being a component of a larger system, a spore in a slime mold.
FIB: Some landscapes and cityscapes possess iconic and a deep emotional connection to their inhabitants. Where is that place for you?
AD: The older I get the more I realize that I am a Great Lakean. It didn’t occur to me because the Great Lakes region is sectioned in the North-East, Mid-West and Canada so I never identified it as a region in and of itself, but it is, and I think of myself as someone who has spent most of their life living near the Earths largest body of fresh water.
Image from Visible City Map series, 14 by 16 inches, Beeswax, graphite and ink on paper, 2009
FIB: Precisionist cityscape painter Charles Sheeler purposefully excluded the depiction of people in his urban settings. Your work has similar connotations. Specifically focusing on the “Quarry” paintings, the representation of action by man is apparent yet there is a lack of evidence concerning as to who made it and why. Could you elaborate about this absence and its meaning?
AD: I think it goes back to what you said in the first question, life told through the use of objects. We experience our Self through objects. Also, when a painter uses the figure in a work it tends to take over the main focus, it draws the attention, and it sets the mood. I want the space, atmosphere, animals and man-made objects to do that.
Quarry with standing water, 36 inches by 48 inches, Oil on canvas 2008
FIB: Was there ever a time you got lost in a city? How did you feel and what did you take away from this experience?
AD: Ooh heck yeah I've gotten lost in a city, intentionally so! The touch of fear and loneliness you feel when you're lost is pretty freakin' exciting, and you start to notice things that you wouldn’t. It also forces you to take control of space, memorize it so you can figure a way out.
2 Comments
Reader Comments (2)
great questions Ariel!
Great work and interview.