Your Eyes They Make a Circle, 2006. Acrylic, alkyd resin, rust and nails on mounted canvas. Overall dimensions variable, approximately 30×24 x 2 in.
Having since moved his studio to the Parsons School of Design, Shuldiner never imagined the days of living as a full-time painter and sculptor. Nearly ten years ago, he embarked on a career in the music industry working on the business/management side of a NYC record label. Though Shuldiner keeps a hand (or maybe just a finger) in this genre, the long road from the music industry to visual art is at the root of his seemingly infinite black palette. Here we discuss that journey, his own early clothing and record label PATHETIC®, a fancy for linguistics, abstract expressionist and graffiti influences and more.
*Due to the misfortune of a broken mic, we were unable to record this conversation. The artist and I have reconstructed our dialogue through notes, e-mail and memory.
________________________________________
Contemporary Confections: What role does music play in your work? Do you listen to music while you’re painting?
Gabriel J. Shuldiner: Music, actually, plays a larger part in my work than I thought. From a production standpoint, I love the layers in music. I love the infinite possibilities of a drumbeat. My work definitely has a musical quality to it. The black paint--it’s a drumbeat...continually varied. The way the paint moves over the surface area as it is applied has a tonal quality to it. Layers. While I occasionally listen to music while I paint, I prefer the meditative calm of [silence]. But music has always influenced me; I spent several years on the business side of the record industry as a result.
CC: Have you ever created album covers?
GJS: Technically, I did oversee the creation of an album cover for a compilation [of emerging electronic artists] back when I was in the record business. But no, I have not done album covers [myself]…yet. I was always drawn to album covers, though. I kind of miss that with the dominance of digital music files. It’s ironic; I discovered many of my favorite bands by being drawn to the album artwork before I ever heard the music! I remember being heartbroken when I later learned that (except for a lucky few) album artwork was/is [usually] never done by or with the recording artist. I didn't know that record companies had their own art departments. Sometimes these departments do great work, but I felt it was disconnected from the recording artist and their music/vision/aesthetic [as it can be done completely without their input].
CC: Explain the concept behind your [former] clothing line PATHETIC. When did it begin and end?
GJS: PATHETIC was originally a public access television show I did in NYC with my best friend. It was an angst-ridden, ironic, absurd, and terribly funny live call-in show that developed its own cult following during the several years we did it. The irony of that word...the negative connotation...I found dark humor in it. I eventually turned PATHETIC into an underground T-shirt and record company called "patheticproduKtions." I was also experimenting with black and white photography and video at that time.
CC: Having read your artist's statement, is it fair to say that like the early graffiti writers, many of whom have migrated to the clothing industry, your move to art from the music industry was born out of frustration with dominant culture or “the system” so to speak?
For me, calling oneself an artist was a loaded issue. I judged myself too harshly; a perfectionist and extremely competitive. I was literally driving myself insane. Of course, this has all changed now and this element of perfection has become extremely beneficial--always pushing myself in my own work. When I first started painting, an artist friend of mine gave me this quotation by the American artist, Lawrence Calcagno: “As an artist, it is central to be unsatisfied; this isn’t greed, though it might be appetite.” It took me awhile to understand that one, but I get it now.
CC: Can you see yourself doing figurative work in the future?
GJS: I'm open to the possibility, but if you think about my current work and look at it long enough, it could be deemed figurative. There are figures in my work--they stare back at you.
All images © Gabriel J. Shuldiner.
CC: Have you ever created album covers?
GJS: Technically, I did oversee the creation of an album cover for a compilation [of emerging electronic artists] back when I was in the record business. But no, I have not done album covers [myself]…yet. I was always drawn to album covers, though. I kind of miss that with the dominance of digital music files. It’s ironic; I discovered many of my favorite bands by being drawn to the album artwork before I ever heard the music! I remember being heartbroken when I later learned that (except for a lucky few) album artwork was/is [usually] never done by or with the recording artist. I didn't know that record companies had their own art departments. Sometimes these departments do great work, but I felt it was disconnected from the recording artist and their music/vision/aesthetic [as it can be done completely without their input].
Ambition and Convenience (detail), 2006. Acrylic, sign-paint, alkyd resin, raw pigment, rust, nails and tape on mounted canvas on canvas. Overall dimensions variable, approximately 20×16 x 2 in.
CC: Explain the concept behind your [former] clothing line PATHETIC. When did it begin and end?
GJS: PATHETIC was originally a public access television show I did in NYC with my best friend. It was an angst-ridden, ironic, absurd, and terribly funny live call-in show that developed its own cult following during the several years we did it. The irony of that word...the negative connotation...I found dark humor in it. I eventually turned PATHETIC into an underground T-shirt and record company called "patheticproduKtions." I was also experimenting with black and white photography and video at that time.
CC: Having read your artist's statement, is it fair to say that like the early graffiti writers, many of whom have migrated to the clothing industry, your move to art from the music industry was born out of frustration with dominant culture or “the system” so to speak?
GJS: It was an organic move and one that I cannot only attribute to a sense of frustration with dominant culture. Yes, dominant culture disturbed me greatly, and still does. The seemingly innate desire to rebel against it gave me instant connection to graffiti, rap music, punk rock, skateboarding, etc. In a lot of ways, that stuff kept me sane. I wanted to immerse myself in that culture, before those cultures became popular or trendy, I wanted to be a part of all of them. Ironically, this was one of the reasons I was initially attracted to the music business. I wanted to nurture and develop those underground artists that I found to be absolutely incredible and had moved me [and] I felt the mainstream record industry was completely ignorant; I wanted to change that. My eventual move to art was more about finding my own sense of self and form of expression. In retrospect, I guess, unconsciously, I was trying quite hard to deny my own creative abilities, through the pursuit of others.
CC: Did you have a particular attraction to the style and forms in graffiti, as much as you were attracted to what it represented ideologically?
GJS: I was attracted to the freedom of expression-- the rawness, anger, passion, devotion and illegality of it all. Whether it be sidewalks, doors, subways, buildings or rocks, the surface was equally as fascinating to me as the actual graffiti and how the marks related aesthetically to its larger environment fascinated me. I always thought of the ancient cave paintings when I first noticed the graffiti I was growing up around. I found [graffiti] beautiful. It gave me a sense of calm, humanity, and a sense of belonging to something greater than myself.
CC: Did or do you have a tag name?
GJS: Did. Pathetic®. Same name as my former company.
CC: When did the black paintings begin?
GJS: 1972.
CC: What lead you to keep black as your main color palette?
GJS: The day I can easily explain this will be the day I no longer paint in black. I am, and have always been, drawn to it’s power, authority, mystery and elegance. I believe it's the most difficult color to paint with [and] the most profound--timeless and beautiful. It’s a loaded color and I like that.
CC: Do you want to talk about the ways in which life experience factors into your paintings and palette?
GJS: For a while I was heavily addicted to drugs. I am clean and sober now, and have been for over 7 years. I only started painting after I got clean. If someone had told me I would one day be clean and an artist I would never have believed it.
Gelächter Und Zerfall (Laughter And Decay), 2006. Acrylic, house-paint, wax, Japanese ink, rust, glue, milkbones and bolts on canvas. Overall dimensions variable, approximately 48 × 48 x 4 in.
CC: Did you have a particular attraction to the style and forms in graffiti, as much as you were attracted to what it represented ideologically?
GJS: I was attracted to the freedom of expression-- the rawness, anger, passion, devotion and illegality of it all. Whether it be sidewalks, doors, subways, buildings or rocks, the surface was equally as fascinating to me as the actual graffiti and how the marks related aesthetically to its larger environment fascinated me. I always thought of the ancient cave paintings when I first noticed the graffiti I was growing up around. I found [graffiti] beautiful. It gave me a sense of calm, humanity, and a sense of belonging to something greater than myself.
CC: Did or do you have a tag name?
GJS: Did. Pathetic®. Same name as my former company.
CC: When did the black paintings begin?
GJS: 1972.
CC: What lead you to keep black as your main color palette?
Like an Idiot, 2006. Acrylic, house-paint, gesso, alkyd resin and nails on gesso board. Overall dimensions variable, approximately 12.5×12.5×2.5 in.
GJS: The day I can easily explain this will be the day I no longer paint in black. I am, and have always been, drawn to it’s power, authority, mystery and elegance. I believe it's the most difficult color to paint with [and] the most profound--timeless and beautiful. It’s a loaded color and I like that.
CC: Do you want to talk about the ways in which life experience factors into your paintings and palette?
GJS: For a while I was heavily addicted to drugs. I am clean and sober now, and have been for over 7 years. I only started painting after I got clean. If someone had told me I would one day be clean and an artist I would never have believed it.
Back then [during my addiction] I wanted to run a record company, and spent many years headed in that direction. I realized I was chasing a myth I had created for myself. There is another "myth" about artists, one that equates the creative individual with a damaged, chemically dependent, twisted individual. I beg to differ. It was only after I kicked drugs that my creativity really took off. I originally thought this disqualified me. I quickly realized I was full of rigid, ridiculous and false rules and definitions about what it means to be "an artist." Coming to terms with my creative passion, [this form of] expression, is all part of letting go [of those ideas]. Life experience is the only way I can explain this [change]. There is definitely a cathartic element to my painting that's extremely personal and keeps me sane--I paint for myself. But others have been catching on to what I’m doing [and] that was beyond my wildest dreams, to say the least!
CC: What's your relationship with or attraction to the artist Robert Ryman and other abstract expressionist work.
CC: What's your relationship with or attraction to the artist Robert Ryman and other abstract expressionist work.
GJS: When I first saw Ryman’s work my life changed forever. I had no idea who he was prior to 2002. Again, these rigid rules that I lived by-- they stifled me. I always loved to break rules, but when it came to something as personal as painting, I just didn’t have the self-confidence. I didn’t know about Ryman and I certainly didn’t know the type of work he and his contemporaries created was [even] "allowed."
Perhaps I had taken one too many subway rides growing up in New York City or perhaps I didn’t lift my head enough when walking down the streets; staring at the subway platforms and sidewalks for several decades, one is forced to find beauty in the ugliness that surrounds them. Manhattan was my backyard; Not a lot of trees, grass or wildlife.
So I met Ryman and saw his work (I’m close friends with his son, Cordy). I felt this instant connection. All that I had been thinking about artistically was instantly legitimized. I was always drawn to white and black, as I found unlimited potential in an intentionally restricted palette; the subtle variations one can find there are infinite. I just didn’t think this was a legitimate avenue to explore in "Modern Art." I found (and still find) his work absolutely breath taking and innovative.
This began my own quest to uncover an entire lineage of artists I had never been exposed to [such as Ad] Reinhardt, [Yves] Kline, [Barnett] Newman, [William] De Kooning and most recently Pierre Soulages. Beyond the aesthetic, I feel most closely aligned to Ryman and Soulages...Richard Serra and Bernar Venet too.
CC: What are some of the materials that help you achieve your variations of black paint?
GJS: Creativity is the answer here. I usually mix my own paints--like a chef who doesn’t follow set recipes. Unlike many of the old alchemists (many of whom fascinate me) I don't write down my formulas. Each composition, although at first glance might appear quite similar [to the next], is in fact quite different. Beyond the vine, ivory, carbon, and spinel blacks, there are infinite ways to modify a black acrylic polymer or oil base. Even the same black from different tubes [can be] different. In the past I have added sand, baking soda, rust, diamonds, rocks… Depending on the composition and the concept(s) I’m dealing with, the materials I use can be vital in getting my point across.
Given the incredible decline of our environment, I have deliberately used tar and carbon based paints in a series of compositions to further the message of environmental responsibility. I believe everyone must have a sense of environmental responsibility in order to save [it].
Meine Schonheit (My Beauty) (detail), 2006. Acrylic, charcoal, sign-paint, pencil shavings and nails on mounted cork on wood. Overall dimensions variable, approximately 12 × 12 x 3.5 in.
Perhaps I had taken one too many subway rides growing up in New York City or perhaps I didn’t lift my head enough when walking down the streets; staring at the subway platforms and sidewalks for several decades, one is forced to find beauty in the ugliness that surrounds them. Manhattan was my backyard; Not a lot of trees, grass or wildlife.
So I met Ryman and saw his work (I’m close friends with his son, Cordy). I felt this instant connection. All that I had been thinking about artistically was instantly legitimized. I was always drawn to white and black, as I found unlimited potential in an intentionally restricted palette; the subtle variations one can find there are infinite. I just didn’t think this was a legitimate avenue to explore in "Modern Art." I found (and still find) his work absolutely breath taking and innovative.
This began my own quest to uncover an entire lineage of artists I had never been exposed to [such as Ad] Reinhardt, [Yves] Kline, [Barnett] Newman, [William] De Kooning and most recently Pierre Soulages. Beyond the aesthetic, I feel most closely aligned to Ryman and Soulages...Richard Serra and Bernar Venet too.
CC: What are some of the materials that help you achieve your variations of black paint?
GJS: Creativity is the answer here. I usually mix my own paints--like a chef who doesn’t follow set recipes. Unlike many of the old alchemists (many of whom fascinate me) I don't write down my formulas. Each composition, although at first glance might appear quite similar [to the next], is in fact quite different. Beyond the vine, ivory, carbon, and spinel blacks, there are infinite ways to modify a black acrylic polymer or oil base. Even the same black from different tubes [can be] different. In the past I have added sand, baking soda, rust, diamonds, rocks… Depending on the composition and the concept(s) I’m dealing with, the materials I use can be vital in getting my point across.
Given the incredible decline of our environment, I have deliberately used tar and carbon based paints in a series of compositions to further the message of environmental responsibility. I believe everyone must have a sense of environmental responsibility in order to save [it].
My use of different materials has creative reasons, conceptual and social intentions, but is not intended as a gimmick as some material usage can be [i.e. for outlandish purposes].
CC: What are some of the tools you use to paint?
GJS: I like to make my own tools or use non-traditional tools in non-traditional means. I use brushes [that are] in many stages of decay. Metal, cardboard, a previously dried piece of acrylic, my fingers. I love hardware stores.
GJS: I like to make my own tools or use non-traditional tools in non-traditional means. I use brushes [that are] in many stages of decay. Metal, cardboard, a previously dried piece of acrylic, my fingers. I love hardware stores.
Again, what I use, although not obvious, is part of the creative process. In the same way I modify the acrylics that I use, I modify the tools. It changes the way the paint is applied, which changes the way the paint dries and changes the final effect. It’s all one large dance, similar to quantum physics (another one of my fascinations) everything is related and effects everything else.
CC: Are the canvases beneath the surface (or top) layer empty or have you actually worked on them?
GJS: I build out many of my compositions--I stack them. They come out of the wall, or up off the floor. I'm a painter, but my work is highly sculptural. Yes, there are entire paintings [underneath] that I have [built on top of]. Mysteriousness is part of my work, so what is hidden under the black paint and stacked behind the [surface] painting, is part of the overall effect. Why is it hidden? What is hidden? What is revealed? Why is what is revealed, revealed?
CC: Are the canvases beneath the surface (or top) layer empty or have you actually worked on them?
GJS: I build out many of my compositions--I stack them. They come out of the wall, or up off the floor. I'm a painter, but my work is highly sculptural. Yes, there are entire paintings [underneath] that I have [built on top of]. Mysteriousness is part of my work, so what is hidden under the black paint and stacked behind the [surface] painting, is part of the overall effect. Why is it hidden? What is hidden? What is revealed? Why is what is revealed, revealed?
Zagadka (Puzzle), 2006. Modified acrylic polymer, pigment, gesso, rust and alkyd resin on canvas on mounted wood. Dimensions unknown.
I usually stack or build out my paintings at the end. Surface and support are equally as vital to my process as the actual paint. A final composition, no matter how thick or thin, becomes a sort of object. If you solely look at the face of the composition, you are missing the point. The edges, the sides…all equally important. I use a lot of paint.
CC: How do you decide to cover one and not the other? Is the decision a matter of personal affinity?
GJS:It’s all personal affinity. It’s intuitive, but not necessarily arbitrary. Each decision has its own reason and meaning. It can be an exasperating process, to finally ‘get it right’. It’s part of the process and I cannot explain why a composition "works" one way and not the other. I feel an affinity to [Piet] Mondrian here. His placement of colors was not arrived at arbitrarily. From the evidence I can gather, it was a maddening process. It’s like a big puzzle or chess game. If I change one thing, the entire composition changes.
CC: How long does it take you to create a work and how long does it take for them to dry?
GJS: I work and re-work a composition until it feels right...it’s a feeling...then I know it’s finished. This can take a few days or a few years; I work on many compositions, sometimes as many as 12 at the same time for this [exact] reason. I ask this same question to fellow artists about their work, [but] I know the difficulty in answering it because in a very real sense each painting has taken my entire life to arrive at and complete.
CC: Going back to something you mentioned [in earlier conversation]: consciousness of color and constantly asking yourself “How do I keep it interesting? How do I vary it? What do I really see in a brushstroke of black?” Please elaborate.
GJS: There is a lot of color in my work; you just have to look for it. From a physical perspective, there are subtle variations in tone and sheen [attributed to] my use of different resins, glosses and mattes; marks [that] opposing tools make in the paint; how different pigments dissolve in different mediums. All of these variations, to name just a few, effect the way light bounces and reflects off the composition. This, of course, effects the [mood or tone] the painting evokes in the individual [viewer] and, to me, all of this is quite interesting.
CC: So does your work with a painting extend to how it's lit in the gallery? That is, do you light it to evoke a particular reaction or to interact with the viewer?
GJS: Yes. My paintings come alive with the correct light. It’s a tough element to control, but one that I feel is just as important as the [other] materials I use. The physical space my compositions occupy is an [equally] vital compositional element. This is [one of the] ways in which architecture and design play a large part in my work.
CC: How do you develop titles for works such as Until Repetition Becomes Endurance?
GJS: The titles mirror the personal effect my paintings have on me. Double or triple meanings, the sounds of the words themselves, I am fascinated by languages, especially the sounds of German or Polish. On some occasions the sound of certain words together has more of an impact on me than their literal meaning. The titles work as an additional element/layer. I am very much interested in philosophy; literature, linguistics and word-play. The Japanese Haiku and the enigmatic Koan. Sometimes my titles hint or reference these influences, or a larger conceptual issue I'm exploring in my work at the moment.
CC: What have been some of the challenges for you thus far as someone that began their life in the music industry and came to work almost solely as an artist later in life?
GJS: The only challenge seems to be the one I’ve [unfortunately] placed on myself. I mean, without my music industry experience, I wouldn’t have come to painting. It’s my path. In retrospect I can look back and see how I was always [creative], but at the time it never once occurred to me to paint.
CC: How do you decide to cover one and not the other? Is the decision a matter of personal affinity?
GJS:It’s all personal affinity. It’s intuitive, but not necessarily arbitrary. Each decision has its own reason and meaning. It can be an exasperating process, to finally ‘get it right’. It’s part of the process and I cannot explain why a composition "works" one way and not the other. I feel an affinity to [Piet] Mondrian here. His placement of colors was not arrived at arbitrarily. From the evidence I can gather, it was a maddening process. It’s like a big puzzle or chess game. If I change one thing, the entire composition changes.
CC: How long does it take you to create a work and how long does it take for them to dry?
GJS: I work and re-work a composition until it feels right...it’s a feeling...then I know it’s finished. This can take a few days or a few years; I work on many compositions, sometimes as many as 12 at the same time for this [exact] reason. I ask this same question to fellow artists about their work, [but] I know the difficulty in answering it because in a very real sense each painting has taken my entire life to arrive at and complete.
CC: Going back to something you mentioned [in earlier conversation]: consciousness of color and constantly asking yourself “How do I keep it interesting? How do I vary it? What do I really see in a brushstroke of black?” Please elaborate.
GJS: There is a lot of color in my work; you just have to look for it. From a physical perspective, there are subtle variations in tone and sheen [attributed to] my use of different resins, glosses and mattes; marks [that] opposing tools make in the paint; how different pigments dissolve in different mediums. All of these variations, to name just a few, effect the way light bounces and reflects off the composition. This, of course, effects the [mood or tone] the painting evokes in the individual [viewer] and, to me, all of this is quite interesting.
CC: So does your work with a painting extend to how it's lit in the gallery? That is, do you light it to evoke a particular reaction or to interact with the viewer?
GJS: Yes. My paintings come alive with the correct light. It’s a tough element to control, but one that I feel is just as important as the [other] materials I use. The physical space my compositions occupy is an [equally] vital compositional element. This is [one of the] ways in which architecture and design play a large part in my work.
Until Repetition Becomes Endurance (detail), 2007. Modified acrylic polymer, pigment, gesso, rust and alkyd resin on canvas on mounted wood. Overall dimensions variable, approximately 19.5 x 19.5 x 3 in.
CC: How do you develop titles for works such as Until Repetition Becomes Endurance?
GJS: The titles mirror the personal effect my paintings have on me. Double or triple meanings, the sounds of the words themselves, I am fascinated by languages, especially the sounds of German or Polish. On some occasions the sound of certain words together has more of an impact on me than their literal meaning. The titles work as an additional element/layer. I am very much interested in philosophy; literature, linguistics and word-play. The Japanese Haiku and the enigmatic Koan. Sometimes my titles hint or reference these influences, or a larger conceptual issue I'm exploring in my work at the moment.
CC: What have been some of the challenges for you thus far as someone that began their life in the music industry and came to work almost solely as an artist later in life?
GJS: The only challenge seems to be the one I’ve [unfortunately] placed on myself. I mean, without my music industry experience, I wouldn’t have come to painting. It’s my path. In retrospect I can look back and see how I was always [creative], but at the time it never once occurred to me to paint.
I spent several years as an entrepreneur, following my creative drive in a different manner with my own company. Went through several years of black and white abstract photography. My fondest memories are from grade school, but only from my art and shop classes. I was always drawn to and fascinated by creativity. I believe that all humans are creative by nature; it must be nurtured, though. When I was younger and playing competitive tennis, I had no problem considering myself an athlete, but there is something extremely personal about creating.
For me, calling oneself an artist was a loaded issue. I judged myself too harshly; a perfectionist and extremely competitive. I was literally driving myself insane. Of course, this has all changed now and this element of perfection has become extremely beneficial--always pushing myself in my own work. When I first started painting, an artist friend of mine gave me this quotation by the American artist, Lawrence Calcagno: “As an artist, it is central to be unsatisfied; this isn’t greed, though it might be appetite.” It took me awhile to understand that one, but I get it now.
CC: Can you see yourself doing figurative work in the future?
GJS: I'm open to the possibility, but if you think about my current work and look at it long enough, it could be deemed figurative. There are figures in my work--they stare back at you.
All images © Gabriel J. Shuldiner.
