Asher Jay,  Banded Grid Symbiosis,  modern art

Artist Asher Jay Highlights how to Deconstruct Art for a Neo-Reality

We describe ourselves as humans, partly by the ways in which we attempt to deconstruct this ethereal term ‘art’. We have developed a perception that if we are able to see through a painting, a stylistic photograph, a film, fiction, into what can be garnered from it – or at least appear to be able to do so because we can argue our reasoning stubbornly enough – then we have somehow demonstrated that we have some ‘higher’ capability, a capacity that other species
lack.
Yet how many of us can truly see through the looking glass? Is it even possible to define what art is? Is it, in it’s purest form, a pristinely personal definition? Does the fact that something can mean something make it art, or is the fact that it does mean something make it so?
Such rhetoric is what springs from the ability to waste time procrastinating on infinite ideals. But the chance to deconstruct the process of the artist and her work doesn’t come along every day. When it does, one must go all out when it comes to allowing the mind to wonder along trails which hang from supernovas within the synapses.
Which brings us onto the introduction of the artist. The moment to unveil the curtain.
Asher Jay is a designer, artist, writer and activist. Inspired by her grandfather’s hand illustrated letters to her, educated at Parsons the New School of Design in New York, she now presents ‘Shadowed Heirlooms’, a collection of mixed media artworks, at the William Bennett Gallery. Part of the gallery’s ‘Emerging Creatives Collide’, curated by Ashley Bouder, Her works are diffused with all that makes us human, from our fears and flaws (our arrogance, ignorance, apathy and recklessness) to our overwhelming potential. The un-lived tomorrows of future generations are not beyond saving.

It’s a great honour to bring you this detailed interview.

Litter Halo Lioness.

The halo of litter, shaded red as if blood falling from the car engines, invokes memories of Lady Macbeth; do you think there is blood on our hands? Meanwhile the lioness – upside down – appears somewhat distorted, half in play, with a touch of death about her. The play element, is it ignorance? With her face turned away from the circle of cars and encroaching litter, her right limb lolling casually against her chest. Or is she afraid to face what’s around her head on? In the same vein, the front of the cars are turned away from the scene (which dwarfs their size), is mankind oblivious to the world, or is it a purposeful ignorance?

I often walk into the American Museum of Natural History to glance at the 24-Hour Evolutionary chronometer, which compresses geological time and the entire course taken by life on earth within the span of a day. If First Life were to emerge at 5:00 a.m. on this hypothetical ticker’s primordial soup, then the First Vertebrates would clock in only several hours later at 8:00 pm, followed by dinosaurs at 10 p.m. and finally us, Homo Sapiens, a fraction of a second before midnight. This really puts things in perspective for me because we (humans) have had a greater impact on life in our relatively short period of evolutionary existence than the past billion years of natural biological crests and troughs have. We are on a highway heading straight for peak oil through our exhaustive consumption patterns without any regard to all the habitats we encroach upon and decimate, in order to maintain our everyday lives. Certainly, it can be said that we, like Lady Macbeth have bitten off more than we can chew, and the butterfly effect of each of our actions sullies our sanity and bloodies our hands. The world is dyed red by our ruthless dealings and oblivious transgressions. Nothing can wash away or undo the damage. Yet red is not only a symbol of blood but also one of vitality and alarm. Many ecosystems have reached their tipping point; it is up to us to determine the evolutionary slope they will incline toward: extinction or salvation.

The lioness is an expression of Mother Nature, and she reminds us of the beauty that is lost, stolen from earth through our pollution. The lioness is cradled by our materialistic choices and capitalistic decay; she is upside down toying with the world view of nature, it isn’t ignorance so much as it is naiveté, but jaded as we are we often confuse the two. The cars are turned away from her as their presence in her world is transient, but they leave behind a lasting halo of red (destruction of habitat) constructed out of actual garbage collected from the reserve I spotted her at. Mankind is ignorant when it wants to be, we lose our humanity if it helps advance our self interest, but as Richard Saul Wurman often sites, it is all about “the intelligent pursuit of self interest.”
“You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the existing model obsolete.” ~ R. Buckminster Fuller

In Litter Halo Lioness, the sense of encroachment and suffocating proximity is obvious, yet in Banded Grid Symbiosis there is a greater sense of diffusion, are these senses mutually exclusive, do you feel?

I find them two sides of the same coin, in fact we flip this coin so rapidly that it is hard to determine what is happening when, and which poses a greater threat, the proximity or the diffusion, also it seems one side bleeds into the other causing us to ponder what comes first…

In Banded Grid Symbiosis, the diffusion that is being portrayed is more so an overwhelming force that leeches off of nature, slowly but surely conquering and using up what little resources and reserves there are left. Like saprophytic organisms we assimilate till we extinguish all breath, except even parasites reach a symbiotic flat-line with their hosts, we don’t, we contour everything we come in contact with to satiate our will.

“We shall not cease from exploration. And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

-T. S. Eliot, Little Gidding


There is a diffusion of media – from the film which captured the image of the lioness to pencil and paint, and the fingers on the artist. Which, to you, seems more real? Is it the physical touch of an artist which gives the image reason, compared to the accurate representation of film?

A photograph may capture an instantaneous sliver of time in all its detail, but not everything can be seen in a single moment, because a moment can hold only so much information and I want to communicate the whole story. By exploring deeper into the subject and by comprehending its context, I am able to bring to light observations and ideas that underscore issues beyond the visual parameters of a still. More than visual accuracy, I wish for my paintings to portray an emotional and thought provoking exchange with the viewers about the world outside frozen film flashes.

There is so much humanity in the paintings, and not simply in the vehicles, coins, litter (by-products of our existence) and that brings home a real sense that the things we have come to define ourselves by – the material objects we own and dispose of – are the very things entrapping us within ourselves.

Yes, you’ve accurately poured this piece through a critic’s decanter but I would like to add to that. We (humans) are not only visually represented within the litter we have left behind, but also deeply ingrained into the patterns within the painting. Our idea of order not only serves as our prison, but also invades and replaces the patterns of nature with our own rigid structures. We dominate without seeking to coexist.

No Way Out.
The shape of the grid layout of the background here, shaped like stock market tables, and combined with the penny grassland bring to the mind the current credit crunch and recession. The theme of your piece here creates a real sense of the way we plot our way into something without thinking of the consequences and leaving behind escape routes. A society built on consumerism, which is built on the whims of the individual, and sustained by an economy fashioned on the ethereal word ‘credit’ has continually closed the doors which could help it escape from its faults (deregulation of the banks, closure of industry – particularly in the United Kingdom). The sad thing is that we (or at least the majority), like the antelope here, are pushed along such courses by others who do not see the effects their actions have. The presence of roads in this picture brings this idea of routes and directions. The sentiment of being at the will of forces out of our influence gives your pieces an existential element. Did you ever consider using the grid layout in the background in front of the animal as a symbol of imprisonment by these laid out forces, why didn’t you?

I figured if I place the grid before the animal it would suggest the worst case scenario, that we have completely over ridden their existence, and I do not believe we are that poorly issued just yet. The placement of the grid in relation to the animal already segments the work and conveys that the animal is in fact spatially confined, I am optimistic and I’d rather suggest an imbalanced interaction between artifice and nature than portray the balance tilted entirely in our favor. Conflict zones suggest that there is still hope for both sides to make truce and grow toward a more inclusive solution. This is a common issue in Kenya and Tanzania when human settlements come in contact with wildlife. I think it possible to still find a way to live extensively; I would find it a worrying warning sign when my work begins to impress the grid over the animal altogether for that would claim we have reached the point of no-return.

Have you ever considered yourself to have been through an existential crisis?
I endure one every few months. Without a crisis, you do not grow, and sometimes we need to stick ourselves into paths less traveled and experience that which is unfamiliar, uncomfortable or painful in order to grow as a person. I commit myself to interacting openly, and I allow myself to savor the full spectrum of joy and pain. To be broken is one of the best things that can happen to an artist; the reconstruction process of the mind and soul is akin to the way we develop muscular strength. The recipe is a hand me down, overstress your system, break down the existing membranes, and find renewed strength in healing. It is vital to endure an internal dialogue that can shake one out of one’s comfort zone. You are grounded by certain opinions you harbor today, so you think you are right, you think you are in the ‘know’ but something new and unexpected comes along jolts you out of your little bubble and propels you to question what you thought you knew and thought was right. At any given point your opinions stem from your existing pool of knowledge and that restricts your outlook. It has taken me a while but I know now that one cannot hide from hurt, pain, suffering and confrontation, things that can rip you apart will continue to do so; it is how you piece your humpty-dumpty self back together each time that matters.
Change The Way You Connect The Spots.

The grid system you have here appears harsh, deliberate, functional; juxtaposed with the natural shape of the leopard. How do you view the world and, given the chance, how would you ‘connect the spots’? Would that involve a change in lifestyle?

If I can consciously make lifestyle changes big and small to pave way for a collective future so can everyone else. A leopard does change its spots given enough time and reasons, this is the fundamental assertion of evolution.
I have invoked changes in my lifestyle over the past year and a half mostly because this one article I read titled Tuna’s End by Paul Greenberg altered my relationship with this world altogether. The more I learn the more I want to make room for in my life and in this world, and the more I see myself changing the more I want to incite transformation. With every piece I create I learn, and through such epiphanies I experience spiritual metamorphosis. We have thus far been trying to connect the dots based on previous knowledge but that isn’t a feasible foundation as we seldom factor in the world’s ability to grow more complex due to the cumulative impact of consequences. So when I do something it isn’t an isolated act, its influence on this planet compounds with everything else that I have done up until then. So if we want to address issues we need to wrap our heads around the net imprint we leave on earth, i.e. the end result of multiplying all the actions ever committed by every living organism sustained on this blue marble. In effect we are creating this tight knot of repercussions that we cannot even begin to deconstruct until we reject our linear-thinking mindset. The sphere of interconnectivity is growing exponentially dense but we are oblivious of this because we are still deciphering ecological denudation in consecutive integers and connecting the spots as we did in Kindergarten with Dot-To-Dot. I would connect the spots in permutations since every spot can affect every other spot, this would give rise to a far more accurate and complex whole picture, which is crucial to chart out before one can address distinguished silos of distress.
I have illustrated the grid in a deliberate and harsh manner because we define our paradigm of subsistence as separate from the natural order of life, which ought not to be the case. We are a part of nature, but we have in a misguided effort to find meaning set ourselves apart from nature, and that is not to our benefit.

In a world of surrealism, where do you base your reality?
I suppose I anchor my reality in Nat Geo and Nova documentaries. I watch a lot of documentaries; my favorites so far are The Last Lions, The Raging Planet, The Universe and Wild Ocean.

Artists perceive the world differently from lay persons, walking down the street my eye automatically scans the area for patterns. My mind is always taking notes on repetitions in the visual log, this is how I develop my visual vernacular. I also search for stimuli…for triggers that will evoke expression from the unknown quadrants of my Johari’s window. These catalysts for self expression that I encounter daily unfurl untapped parts of me through creative expression, so the more I paint the more I get to know who I really am and what my reality subsumes.

In a way I am my own time capsule, hidden excerpts of time, place and action reemerge through my creations and find relevance in the present day, which renders time moot to my memories as they weave past tenses and terms.

Which artists inspire you?

Gustav Klimt, Paul Klee, Hundert Wasser, Lee Bontecou, Chuck Close, Pablo Picasso, Chagall, Peter Beard, Madam Grès, Alexander McQueen, Frank Gehry, Zaha Hadid and Nacho Duato.

What does the term ‘abstract’ mean to you?

To me abstraction is basically various emotionally skewed realities bleeding in to one another generating an abstruse multifarious mnemonic organism that contains both the proverbial and the unfamiliar. You can experience abstraction but you cannot work it out, it breathes into you and you recognize its structure but you cannot discern the specific building blocks that led to its conception. We network within our brains in an abstract way to make sense of that which is novel or strange to us and in order for that to happen, we need to demolish the walls we have raised between all that we have assimilated over the years. Innovative leaps are the offspring of newly drawn up connections between discrete chronologically arranged archives of information, but our every day mind does not allow for us to break sequence and take such skips of faith and intuition. So our mind automatically resorts to arriving at new connections when its rational parts are least active. I often enjoy the best breakthroughs in my dreamscapes where my ego is superseded by my imagination, my cynicism is disabled and the impossible thrives effortlessly alongside all that I know to be possible.


Can you describe how it feels like to paint, to draw, to create art?

I am kind of in love with my work, it is the best relationship I have ever been in, it cloaks me in a veil of happiness, warmth and calm. I invest all of my emotions and self in to the process and I only paint after I am well nourished and hydrated, when I am a mess it shows in my work. Filling a canvas is both emotionally and physically grueling, so I do everything in my power to be balanced and wholly accessible- mind, body and soul- to my art. Every minute that I am in front of my work I am fully present. I usually organize my thoughts and affairs such that I am not distracted by externalities when I am actually working. I set up all my materials in convenient range to my easel and then the magic happens, my hand lands the first brush stroke against the primed grain of the canvas and I am lost to its expanse. From there on I am in a sort of trance, floating through mind space lit by igniting sparklers. It feels like taking wing, ascending only to free fall through weightless stress free transcendental ether. It’s a symphonic light show high and makes me feel one with the world around. When I am creating my skin is the only thing keeping me from being everywhere at once, it is as though painting disintegrates that final membrane of separation.

Imagine there are no humans, and never have been. You are still you, but without knowledge of your humanity, do you think you could paint in a world without people?

I just saw the movie on the Chauvet caves, where they discovered prehistoric rock paintings dating back 30-33,000 years ago. Most of the art depicted on the walls were that of animals or anthropomorphic versions of them. Several of the animals could be credited to two artists, which is amazing to me because it just goes to show that even when there is a small pool of subject matter to draw from it is easy to develop a signature style.
I think if there were no humans and I had no awareness of my humanity, I would still paint but the absence of the collective would considerably alter my visual vocabulary, semiotics and references. I would only be able express what I am cognizant of; there would be no communal mechanism at play. I would be painting for myself and perpetuating notions apparent only to me, it would thus validate only my presence in this world and there would be no other entity of my kind to challenge or dispute my claims. It would be rather self-fulfilling and isolating. There wouldn’t be a reality that could surpass me, so my imagination would eventually lead to paranoia and insanity. As an artist I would document and observe the obvious as opposed to enrich my work with theoretical complexities and concealed meanings. I would be seeing and regurgitating the visual field I am exposed to daily and since how I see something would be unique to me, if my lion looked like a meerkat then that would be the universal truth of that time, as no other artist could contest that representation. There would be no feedback, so I would also probably flat-line quickly, for without constructive criticism I could never advance my skill or craft!

The human element in my creative dialogue with this world is inescapable. Not knowing that I am human wouldn’t change the fact that I am human. It is the humanity in me that seeks expression after all.

It’s very easy these days to be dragged into a discussion of politics, especially politics regarding economics (because a lot of the time this seems to make it possible for people to brag about how rich they are with some strange legitimacy). People would often try to transpose such topics into artwork, do you think art can or does exist without these factors? Should it?

Art is merely the articulation of contemporary cultural, social, political, economical and ecological contexts; one would be hard pressed to produce a work that wouldn’t in some way touch upon these labels of acknowledgement and belonging. We are all a part of various frameworks, and regardless of how an artist feels about being a cog in the wheel of life, references to the whole or parts of said wheel are inescapable. If I were to shut out the world, I would have nothing but a blank canvas, and that would be my only truth.

The eyes of the animals in the pictures really stand out as their gaze falls upon the viewer. It is said that eyes are the gateway to the soul; can you describe what you think a ‘perfect’ pair of eyes looks like?

To me the perfect pair of eyes would be luminous, large, open, engaging, emotionally available and molten. They would radiate vulnerability, allow all light to permeate through and serve as both entry and exit to a new reality. The perfect pair of eyes would function as both a mirror to the beholder’s soul as well as a window to its own core.

If all your senses diffused with each other, mixing together until they were all one, for a single day, how do you think it would affect the way you saw the world?

This question is my daily quest; I am always trying to erode the barriers between my senses! I think it is every artist’s dream to be able to smell sounds, taste feelings, hear colors, see flavors and touch the intangible (preferably all at once). Such synesthetic moments, even a few is truly worth living another day for, it would make my world explode with new possibilities and combinations. I could experience life on a whole different frequency and the exact delivery of these stimuli, the precise manner of overlap would be unique to my brain and configuration. That would just be an epic mélange of neural input and I would love every uninhibited minute of it!

How do you decide on the names you give your pieces?

Naming my pieces has a lot to do with the manner in which they flow out of me, if it is tethered to reactions it tends to sieve through a more emotional filter than a rational one, in which case I find it harder to whip up titles for my pieces. However, if they are affixed in a visually comprehensible narrative, and I know the semantics I intend to communicate to the viewer prior to beginning the piece I stumble upon titles even before I birth them.
I love word play, puns, poetic phrasing and alliterations, so sometimes if there is an underlying theme I just pen down all the pertinent words that describe the pieces within the collection and then play around with the list till I can chisel charming captions and christen my works. In this collection (Shadowed Heirlooms) my favorite titles include: “Beyond Borders, Between Butchers” “Perfection Plus One” “Common Crimson Circulatory Systems” and “No Way Out (This Way In).”

You have a strong fashion line alongside your paintings. Does concentrating on one (say painting) encourage you to do more of the other (designing clothes)?
I don’t juggle or pit one medium against the other, to me art and fashion are inextricably linked; I utilize both to transmit the narrative of a singular thought process. This is also why I elect to showcase my clothing with my artworks from time to time; they are variations of the same semantic succession and creative chain. I also enjoy bringing in my design faculties in to my art and vice versa. The designer in me cannot help but merchandize my art. I often filter core and ornamental motifs, hues, symbols and textures through the entire body of work so that each piece consciously advances the central plot of that collection. My diligent designer work ethic propels me to adhere to deadlines and treat my art career with the same PR and business savvy that I would harness for my clothing line. This implies that I can channel my creativity expediently and efficiently to suit a demand and supply model, I work hard and I work smart. To me garments are sewn sculptural canvases with a hint of origami in the mix. It just brings a new dimension to a game I am already taking part, and yes one conduit invariably inspires the other. The unbridled freedom of personal expression afforded to me by art helps me tunnel past the boundaries of form and function. I play with fabric in much the same way that I play with paint; I create fragments of a story and try to tell the story in different ways by fitting the slices together and taking them apart. I move the sections around until I have tried every combinatorial option. Some layouts tend to stand out more than others to me, I photograph those, and only then do I go about resolving and completing the jigsaw.

What is your ideal setting/venue for an exhibit of your work?

The place should echo the essence of my work (and by extension me), so it should contain spatially contradictory elements capable of conjuring a vibrant discourse about anthropogenic artifice and biotic blueprints. The ideal setting would possess industrial and natural sensibilities, be linear yet organic, intended yet unpredictable, exude yin-yang and incorporate notes of nascency and mortality. The spirit of the venue would translate and three dimensionally map everything that life is, offering a unique platform for people to come together under the banners of self analysis, exploration and growth. So I guess my ideal space would be a happy marriage between the High Line Park in the Big Apple and Frank Gehry’s curvaceous, metallic, Bilbao Museum.

‘Emerging Creatives Collide’ opens at the William Bennett Gallery on Monday 29th August 2011. It is Curated by the Prima Ballerina of the NY City Ballet, Ashley Bouder. If you can, I cannot recommend seeing it for yourself enough. It is a truly exciting opportunity to view the concoctions of some new artistic talent with a true political drive behind it (of which there are far too few these days).

The latest news in contemporary and modern art in New York, London, Paris and Berlin

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *