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Eric Stotik's paintings may seem narrative-based, but, he says,
"the painting is just the painting." |
INTERVIEW
The Accidental Allegorist Eric
Stotik's paintings are shot through with myth and mystery, but he
just wants to nourish the masses.
by
LISA LAMBERT
243-2122 ext 313
Writers love
Eric Stotik. Certainly art critics do, as those plying the craft
locally have heaped paragraphs of praise on his talents. Perhaps,
as the storytellers of art, critics relate to the narrative quality
of Stotik's paintings. Or maybe it's just that writing about good
realist paintings is a refreshing break from writing about good
nonrepresentational paintings (it's sometimes hard to explain why
fat orange stains in the center of canvases evoke God). Stotik's
paintings are like beautiful tarot cards that tell the darkest tales
of humanity. Stotik met up with Willamette Week at PDX to
discuss his work.
Willamette
Week: Your work has been described as "Northern Renaissance
realism combined with proto-perspective space," as "grotesques reminiscent
of George Grosz," as "surrealist" and as "mythic."
Eric Stotik:
It's Traditional. It's not really informed by any art history per
se. I mean, I understand the intellectual arguments of how modern
art came to be and what its progress was, but I can't really buy
it. I'm more interested in traditional ideas about art. I think
part of traditional art's goal is the nourishment of the people.
That's my goal.
When I first
looked at these paintings, I wanted to impose narratives on each--give
the people identities and give the scenarios plots. But most of
the stories I created didn't fit. Are there specific narratives
to these works?
I think they
seem narrative-based because they have representational objects,
but I don't see them that way. I see them as straightforward. There's
no other dynamic behind them. The triptych with the two fellows
is of the inventors of the lobotomy. But the painting is just the
painting. The reason I made it was after reading the book Great
and Desperate Cures,
I read in Willamette Week about a child who had a lobotomy
and died at OHSU. It's sort of a tribute to him.
It struck
me that you had to take a lot of time planning these paintings;
they're very detailed and carefully rendered. What are the first
steps in your process?
I prepare different
pieces of paper or wood and they sit until I want to paint. It's
really organic--meaning it's really passive. Once I have the idea,
I just execute it. I don't do drawings. I just start painting.
In his farewell
article, The Oregonian's D.K. Row identified you as a member
of a core group of young artists keeping Portland's art scene alive.
I don't really
feel like I'm one of the young artists any more, not because I feel
old, but I don't think I represent young artists. I'm just struggling
to be relevant--trying to make meaning. Sometimes the scene just
seems like an interior-decorating industry. I suspect it's pretty
healthy, but I don't know. For one thing, so many artists work in
isolation, it's hard to tell how everyone is connected. I don't
really feel like I have an idea of what the art world here is. Who
are all the people? If it had a shape, what shape would it be? I
don't think I could answer that.
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