'Artists can struggle to finish mandatory sentences, they don’t really do "mandatory".'
Michael Hlousek-Nagle studied fine art in Scotland and New York. He has work in private collections across Europe and USA. Considered narratives underpin his beautifully executed work.
Where is your current studio? What would be your dream studio?
I don’t have a studio as such. I paint in a small extension overlooking the back garden. It gets plenty of natural light, sometimes too much. My dream studio is in a loft apartment, somewhere in Williamsburg. I imagine it has huge windows, loads of space, a view over lower Manhattan, and a bed in one corner. Definitely just a dream…
Do you prefer to work in silence or does certain music inspire you?
Yes, and yes. Both. I prefer to work in silence, but there are times when it’s useful to distract the conscious mind while working – it can stop some of the second-guessing and uncertainty. I tend to listen to 19th century piano or chamber music when I work, like Schumann or Brahms. Alternatively I’m always happy listening to a true crime podcast, or some contemporary ambient soundscapes by people like Lee Rosevere or Norman Fairbanks. Having my conscious mind distracted leaves my hand free to work without tripping over my thoughts.
Studio life can lead to isolation, how do you address this/ keep a balance?
I WISH studio life led to isolation! I’m lucky if my two kids don’t come barging in to interrupt my work every 5 minutes. And if I’m honest, I quite like it when they do.
Describe a moment you had an epiphany concerning your creative life.
It happened quite recently actually. I’d had some interest and support from the gallery 33 Contemporary in Chicago, and it changed everything. I remember one Saturday a few weeks ago waking up in the middle of the night and realizing I’m no longer embarrassed by the word ’artist’ and all the baggage that goes with it. Overnight I let go of all my long-held reservations and embraced it. And now, for the first time in my life, if somebody asks me what I do, I won’t clear my throat and stare at my feet in awkward embarrassment trying to avoid that word. I’ll just say it, “I’m an artist”. This may sound silly but that’s quite a breakthrough for me.
Do you have a personal mantra or quote which serves to motivate you?
My daughter Cecilia designed a tattoo for me, which she copied onto my hand with a pen. I kept her original design sketch and glued it to my easel. It’s a skull, above the words, ‘Paint Or Die’. I think that’s pretty good for a 7 year old, and I look at it every day.
Describe an obstacle you have faced and how did you overcome it.
My biggest obstacle has always been self-doubt. I don’t know if I’d say I have overcome it, but I’m winning the struggle at the moment. I started to realise that to privilege my own negative opinion of my work over the many words of appreciation and encouragement from other people was actually a type of arrogance. Why should I put my own negative opinion above the positive opinions of a great many people whose opinions on other things I trust and know to be sound? That’s a double standard, so I decided to stop doing it. And that’s working for me.
Nature versus nurture- do you believe you have inherited abilities from creative parents, do you have creative siblings? Can you identify environmental factors or influences which led to your choices or directions?
No other member of my family has ever been involved in the arts in any respect, so I’m very much the family freak. Which is fine by me. I honestly don’t remember precisely when or why I started making art. I think it was when I was a teenager. I do remember feeling very strong emotional responses to the landscape around me in those years. I spent my teenage years wandering the countryside, especially at night, and the feelings nature gave me were almost literally overwhelming. I suppose I started making art as a way of letting those powerful feelings take shape somehow.
Detail a moment which was the highlight for you, thus far.
That would definitely be working on a set design for the New York City Ballet, for a ballet by the wonderful choreographer Christopher Wheeldon. I’ve never again been part of a team working at that intensity, with those energy levels, and with such a feeling of satisfaction at the end of the work. Being in a packed theatre at the Lincoln Center and seeing the whole production taking on life in front of thousands was an experience I’ll never forget.
If you could time travel, what advice would you give the younger you, regarding pursuing your artmaking?
I’d tell him/me; you think opportunities will always come to you, but one day they won’t. You have to know how to make them happen; don’t just wait for them, work for them. You must be prepared for long lean periods of relative failure. You have to be strong enough to carry on. Never be scared of not succeeding: the only real failure is not trying, not giving it your best shot.
And most of all: Never. Waste. Time. The sand slips through your hands faster and faster. Whenever you can paint, then paint. Don’t wait for inspiration, don’t wait until you’ve decided on your style, don’t wait at all. Just paint. Work is the only way you’ll find inspiration, work is the only way you’ll find your style. Work like there’s no tomorrow, because you don’t know how many tomorrows there will be.
How does your work respond to social trends?
I don’t quite know what a social trend is. My work is about elements of the human condition, about memory, loss, regret, about alienation and acceptance. It is about the internal life of a human being. Unless regret, despair, and forgiveness are social trends, I’m afraid that’s a negative.
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