Architectural Digest October 2010 Page 108 – 9.  Featuring #18 (Untitled), #23(Untitled), and #22(Untitled) in collector Rob Lowe’s home..

Earning His Stripes

Local artist’s giant guitar graces the Sunset Strip

by TED MILLS
NEWS-PRESS CORRESPONDENT

Photo by Jonas Jungblut

Above the Roxy Theater on the Sunset Strip, a giant Gibson guitar stands, beckoning the crowd below to enter and hear rock music as loud as the guitar is tall, which is very tall indeed, at 10 ft.  It’s a new, crazy sight on a road that is famous for odd architecture and famous billboards, and its creator lives here in Santa Barbara.

R. Nelson Parrish doesn’t usually go for things guitar-shaped in his art work, despite coming from a family with a background in Gibson guitars (His grandfather and uncle both played and owned them).  His art since his 2005 MFA at UCSB has been about “totems”, long, multicolored boards of resin, paint, and wood that combine the minimal aesthetic of John McCracken’s planks with a SoCal lifestyle of surfboards and skis.  (It was the vision of them pitched upright in the sand or snow that revealed their totem-like potential).  The work looks both familiar – the colors come straight out of sporting gear – and strange.

Earlier this year, Gibson and the Sunset Strip Business Association sent out a call for entries for “GuitarTown”, a plan to install 26 artist-created guitars in a strategic areas along Sunset.  The Strip is known for its music and architecture, but Parrish submitted another idea:  cruising.

“Cruising the Strip is another iconic American pastime,” he said.

So he drove the strip with a camera pointing out the side of the car.  The 1,000 resulting photos were all blurred lights, like racing stripes, an idea he had been working on a few months earlier during a marathon 26-hour drive to the East Coast from Texas.  He says the art project is what kept him awake.

Some of the original Sunset photo studies can be seen on his Web site, and by comparing them with the finished guitar, one can see how Parrish has truly infused the spirit of the evening lights into the work.

To further imbue the art with the Gibson spirit, Parrish inlaid mahogany, walnut, maple and rosewood within the work, all traditional guitar woods.

The commission took him out of his usual work schedule, a change he says was good.  He got the call for the entries on July 5th, when he was in Alaska for a family reunion.  The deadline was July 30th.  Parrish usually takes three months to work on a piece, but not this time.

Soon he was pulling 18-hour days to get it done and lost 10 days off the top because the resin formulation he usually uses didn’t hold.  He also bent wood for the first time, steaming it so it would curve.  Instead of being in a gallery, the guitar will be out in the elements for a year, so one of Parrish’s final coats was automobile clear-coat.

“It’s protected just like a car,” he says.  “It really cause the colors to brighten up.  I may incorporate it into my normal pieces.”

#35 (Cruisin: Sunset Strip) atop the Roxy Theater

Even though it’s a commission, Parrish has number the work (#35), putting it within the series of his main works.  “It’s the first time I’ve made a work about a particular place and experience,” he says.  “Nic Adler, the owner of the Roxy, told me, ‘You get it.  This is the Sunset Strip.’  I felt is was successful.  And like all my work, it is built to last.”

If you’ve been down Sunset Boulevard in the past two weeks, you’ve likely noticed a new addition to the Strip: 26 ten-foot tall fiberglass Les Paul guitar sculptures. As part of the GuitarTown public art project, over two dozen local and nationally acclaimed visual artists created pieces celebrating musicians, personalities, and influential moments unique to The Sunset Strip’s history and Gibson Guitar. The project will be on display for the next six months, after which the guitars will be sold at a Gala Auction with all proceeds benefitting nonprofit organizations and charities.

Local artist R. Nelson Parrish was one of the creative minds selected to create a piece for GuitarTown, and the result of his work is currently residing above The Roxy. LA Music Blog recently talked to him about how he got involved with the project, what inspired his guitar, and the “pretty damn cool” compliment that made his day.

R. Nelson Parrish

You’re originally from Alaska, but now make your home here in Southern California. How do you feel that the two different environments have influenced your work?

Well, that’s a pretty long answer actually. [LAUGHS] My work deals not only with color and motion in the contemporary landscape, but ultimately it focuses around the question of natural or nature versus the man-made or the synthetic. Where I grew up, and actually where my parents currently live, we’re 30 miles above North America’s farthest northern stoplight, so in terms of being on the fringe of civilization, or what most people would consider it, we’re definitely there.

Growing up in Alaska, the barriers between man and nature were very thin, and on top of that, you also had vast amounts of land in which you could actually study color. We have sunsets that last three to four to five hours in the summertime. Winter, because there is not a whole lot of light pollution, you actually can have your shadow cast by the moon out in the snow. On top of that, it doesn’t get black like it does in other places because your pupils simply just don’t dilate the same way.

Being there and then living in Southern California, particularly going in and out of LA where there is a lot of concrete, there is this hustle and bustle. At the same time, you have similar barriers, particularly when you go surfing. You drive Highway 1, the difference between you and the ocean and the wild dolphins and the surfers and the oil platforms that are out there on the coast, there’s a little bit more of a mixing. The lines between nature and man are blurred. On top of that, California in the history of art is notorious, and there’s an entire movement of people who study the light in Southern California. I think, if anything, there are far more similarities, just different nuances between the two places.

#35 (Cruisin: Sunset Strip)

You say you approach your art through the lens of what is natural versus what is man-made. Can you elaborate on how that’s incorporated into your work?

I entered grad school wanting to study the semiotics of color, which is basically the language of color. The way that I look at color, I really do think that it is its own medium, but I kept bumping into this question or this problem where I could never remove color from a discipline. Painting, sculpture, photography, mixed media—there was always that road bump, to a certain degree.

I used to be a ski racer. Had high hopes of being a professional ski racer. I picked up surfing when I lived in Australia for a little bit. Love auto racing. Just love cars, love everything about ‘em, so there’s this whole idea of moving fast and being in these situations of high speeds that are actually very natural to me. That feeling is the same association that I have when I’m working with color. With that, I really started questioning this idea of, “Okay, this is natural to me, and yet doing these extreme sports or being in these extreme situations is very unnatural to other people.”

From that it created a domino of questioning, “Okay, why is it unnatural to people?” and then on top of that, “What else is considered natural? What do I think is unnatural? Or what is natural, what is considered unnatural?” In Alaska, I grew up in a small town, literally, kind of like Northern Exposure. We would have moose bed down in the back of our yard. I grew up in downtown Fairbanks where half a block down was the court office and just another half a block was the police station, where we had an on-foot police chase through our yard. We had a shooting in front of our house. [LAUGHS] There’s definitely a disconnect between those situations and the moose in our yard. Basically taking personal experiences and then saying, “Okay, what is it? What does it mean to be natural or nature? What does it mean to be man-made?” Just by definition, the fact that man makes the definition of something, it is essentially man-made, so it kind of gets a little abstract and spins out of control.

Even something as simple as the national parks that we have here in the United States, which are just a gem. They’re something that really makes America, America. No where else in the world were there really, up until the point of national parks, were there natural preserves, but even those are a man-made construction. At some point when you’re driving into a national park, there is a line that says, “This is nature and this is not,” and I think it’s really arbitrary, but in people’s minds, there is a distinct definition. I think we’re constantly switching back and forth between those.

My work is somewhat of a picture or a portrait of that question. It is this lens that is grafted onto our current landscape. Now you have the ability to tweet from the top of Mount Everest or go on these amazing journeys and tell everybody about it on your blog, and everybody seems okay with that, but going over 70 miles an hour freaks people out or going into the water to go surfing or swimming scares people. Yet driving on the 405 in traffic, you look one way and the distance between you and another person is maybe eight feet, and they’re on their cell phone, painting their toe nails, eating a burrito and that distance is so small. Oftentimes that barrier is very, very limited. It begs the question, “Okay, what does that mean?” If anything, the lens is looking at the big picture and simultaneously looking at the small details.

#35 in progess, Photo by Jonas Jungblut

So it’s more of a view of saying like, “Where is that dividing point?” and at some point there isn’t that dividing point?

Right. I think that it mixes together, but there is something that ultimately divides the two. The way that I describe my work is a combination of wood, organics, resin, and racing stripes. I consider my stripes racing stripes. They are fast. They pull from the history of automobiles. These stripes and the combinations of stripes, and the way that they’re set up, if you really think about it, the stripes themselves are in their most natural state. Even though they’re a man-made construction, that’s the way that they’re supposed to be. Crisp, clean, linear, and direct. Because I do use wood in my work, people read that as nature or something natural even though the wood is so processed in comparison to where it actually began. You chop down a tree, you mill it, you glue it onto something. It’s bent, it’s cut, it’s fabricated, so if anything it’s ironic that the two signifiers how people read things are actually totally reversed.

You were one of 26 artists that were chosen for the guitar town on Sunset Strip. How did you get involved with that whole project?

You know, I consider myself really lucky. I’m a member of the Los Angeles Art Association, and they’re a non-profit that helps out artists. They’re really community based, and they are constantly keeping artists abreast of opportunities. They forwarded me the call for entries. It was a national call for entries. About six months prior, I did a photo essay and part of the essay required that I drive from Marfa, Texas to Lexington, Kentucky. I had to drive for 26 hours straight in order to make a deadline. To keep myself preoccupied and awake I actually started making long exposure photographs while hauling ass across the country. I started trying to make compositions or similar compositions using the existing light from the landscape, trying to make racing stripe compositions while driving.

I didn’t quite know what I was going do with them, but there was this correlation to my work. It was possibly the next step of evolution in my process, and when this opportunity came up for the GuitarTown, it all clicked together. In my proposal I said, “There is a rich cultural history of the Sunset Strip musically, but part of the Sunset Strip is this amazing American past time, which is cruising the Strip. Literally driving through Sunset and getting that experience, the sounds, the lights. It is iconic.” So I said, “You know what? I’m gonna take this process and try to recreate that, try to project that experience and reference that rich history.” On top of that, part of my works are totems. I create what are essentially contemporary totem poles. So I said, “I’ll make a 10 foot totem-esque Gibson guitar that references the narrative of cruising the Sunset Strip.”

Sunset Strip motion studies

So those photos are kind of the inspiration behind this guitar?

Absolutely. That was my proposal. I said that these photographs will determine the palette of the piece. What I did in order to sketch them was I actually took the photographs and took sections out of them. The result is what the Strip looks like through this lens. As I worked in my studio, I had several of the photographs actually printed up on my back wall so I could constantly reference them back and forth.

Were they just photos of the Strip, or were they photos that you had taken across country as well?

Just photos of the Strip. I spent two nights driving, and I shot about 1,000 images. I just went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, until I felt I had enough material. Then I looked through all of them for a couple days, and then printed up about 100, about the 10 percent that I thought really captured the experience, and started from there.

You mentioned that it’s a 10-foot Gibson guitar. What was the process of actually building a piece that large?

Usually I build everything from the ground up, and this is the first time that I hadn’t. On top of that, it’s the first time I’ve ever used a literal shape. Most of my stuff is either squares or elongated rectangles, and I usually have wood shipped down from Alaska and start from there. This time the guitar was given to me by Gibson and the Sunset Strip Business Association, and it was the shape of a Les Paul in fiberglass. I believe it was made in Wisconsin, by FastCorp, which was both good and bad because I spend a lot of time fabricating everything, so my timeline, I didn’t have to deal with that.

However, the mold itself or the guitar itself was made out of resin, and there’s two types of resins. One’s epoxy, and the other one’s polyester. This one is made out of epoxy, and there was no way to test for that. Polyester resin doesn’t bond to epoxy resin, which I use. I use polyester resins in all my works, so after about 10 days, the work actually started to crack, peel, and come off. I had to sand everything off and start all over, which was frightening, to say the least, considering there was only a three-week deadline and it was the largest piece, to date, I had attempted. [LAUGHS]

So I was hustling. It was really intense. I found a solution, this priming coat called Vinyl Ester that would bond to the epoxy, cure, and then I could put the polyester on top of that. It worked, but there was about a three-day period where I had no idea what I was going do. I didn’t even know if I was going be able to turn in the guitar, because you can’t properly tint epoxy resins. In order to get the colors that I needed, I didn’t know how to achieve that. It was nuts. The whole time I was working 16 to 20 hour days solid up until the moment I delivered that guitar. [LAUGHS] It was intense, but at the same time, I couldn’t have been happier.

Laying down color, photo by Jonas Jungblut

Photo by: Jonas Jungblut

What were your thoughts when you found out that your guitar was gonna be placed on the Roxy?

You know, I didn’t know until I saw it, so I was a bit floored. It’s just a real honor to be a part of the Roxy, and then to find out that Nic Adler, the owner of the Roxy, personally chose the piece. I got to talk to him for a few minutes at the press conference for the public unveiling, and he couldn’t have been more excited. That means a lot to me. He basically said, “The Sunset Strip experience, I get it, I see it, you nailed it.” To get that immediate level of resonance in your audience means so much to me. That’s why I’m an artist, to inspire people and to get people excited about their surroundings, and to make connections with people. I was floored.

More important, my folks are retired now, and as I was driving from Santa Barbara to Los Angeles for the unveiling, my father called me. I guess he had found images on a blog somewhere of the guitar on top of the Roxy already. An artist is always concerned on how the work will be received. It is either triumph or disaster. I asked sheepishly, “Well, Dad, how does it look?” and my dad is a man of very few words. He is old school. He certainly doesn’t give a whole lot of compliments, and he said, “Pretty damn cool.” [LAUGHS] It was a good day, you know? [LAUGHS]

I haven’t been able to talk to a whole lot of people about it, but I really think that it is resonating with people. The response on Facebook has been tremendous. More importantly, the whole idea of natural settings, when you put that guitar up there, it looks like it belongs. It looks like it should be up there, and it blends in with the environment. This whole idea of creating or recreating or relooking at the landscape, and in this case the landscape of the Sunset Strip, it’s almost seamless. That’s what I’m trying to do with the work. It is supposed to be reflective of that environment in which it comes from. This is the first time that I’ve ever made a piece about a specific place. Then to have it on top of the Roxy and really complete that story or the narrative, I think it is phenomenal.

I’ve been back a couple times, and because the work is about color about light, if you look at the guitar at different times during the day, it changes. It mirrors the light in the Sunset Strip. Nic Adler said that he’s gonna have an electrician put in some up lighting so people can see it at night. The lighting is not in yet, but I can’t wait. It’s going to look amazing. To have him to go that extra mile means so much. It means that he really connected with the work. I had some friends that were at the Roxy for work, and they reported that Nic was like a kid at Christmas showing off his new toy. He couldn’t have been more excited about it. To me, that’s great. It makes it worth everything that I put into it and all the sleepless nights. If he’s excited about the work, that means that there are other people out there that are excited as well. That’s why I’m an artist. That’s a job well done.

#35 (Cruisin: Sunset Strip) atop the Roxy Theater

For more information on R. Nelson Parrish, check out:

http://www.rnelsonparrish.com/

For more information on GuitarTown, check out:

http://www.gibson.com/sunset-strip/

Catalog Essay:

Art, at times, responds directly to the space in which it is being exhibited. It may add or underline existing structures, or it may provoke a sense of unease in its presence. In the case of the latter, the viewer must question what in its inherent structure makes it incompatible with the surroundings.

R. Nelson Parrish’s work accomplishes both of the above. While the slick, hand polished artificial surface of his objects fit into contemporary architectural spaces, they also point subtly to a notion of contradictions. Colors concealed under layers of resin shine through the fragmented face of ostensibly unfinished wood planks. The clear straight lines of color hide – even negate- the elaborate process of coating and building up. This process takes months of layering, creating an added contradiction to the seemingly simplicity of the surface design.

While continuing with American West Coast trajectories of the 20th century – critics have compared his work with John McCracken, though one could argue if anything but the handling of the materials parallels McCracken’s work with that of Parrish – the artist has developed his own distinct formal language. Parrish’s style alludes to the interior architecture of the 1960’s and 70’s, automotive design, and to the revival of linear formality; and thus becomes more of a reflection of a young contemporary generation of artists. One may say the West Coast art scene of the 1960’s has found one of its disciples, whose work departs with new conceptual momentums and impulses: the notion of speed and sport have become an integral part of the making.

Parrish applies layer over layer of resin and embeds a line of color, or racing stripes, as he calls them, in each. One won’t find these colors in the grey November days of Berlin. Instead, one finds them in the earthen colors of the American West Coast; from Alaska to Baja, reflecting a particular landscape and its character. Yet, the natural materials and colors are juxtaposed by the artificiality of the making. Or maybe, to be precise, it’s more of a duality than an opposition – a dialectic, a mutually dependent structure Parrish establishes.

The artist refers to the narrow-high standing plank shaped objects as totems, suggesting more than just the similarity of shape. The emblematic characteristic of a totem makes the signifier for a venerated other. For Parrish, the totem becomes a symbol of his appreciation of nature and his concern for human interference in its order. Each step into the landscape, even a quick gaze, is a moment of interference, which reveals its artificiality.

When Parrish places his totems in sand piles, amidst furniture, or in clean neutral spaces, it is a testimony to the origin of the natural and the man-made. Through the process of transition and translation, the original purpose of the material moves and relocates in new interpretative environments; their function is re-read under new conditions and into new narratives.

While the color schemes and the raw materiality of the wood are recognized, one simultaneously acknowledges the elaborate, obsessive work it undergoes is man-made, and thus artificial. But where is the line to be drawn? How does one define artificial versus natural? And does the sterility of an urban interior space, as a new context, make the material itself something synthetic and artificial? The transparency of the resin seemingly conceals the natural texture of the wood, partially fragmented by stripes. Yet is it the wood that has been processed and the colors naturally reflect the color scheme of the West Coast? Is the work therefore then only a mere reflection of the original sources?

Parrish lays no claim on making a socio-political statement, nor does he aim for the deconstruction of an urban myth, yet he invites the viewer to re-think the notion of the boundaries between the original source and the designed, and the processed and developed object. Thus, Parrish’s work is less of a narration of impulses, ideas and concepts; but rather a line up of questions posed.

Dorothea Schöne
Curator and Art Historian in Los Angeles and Berlin

For Caroline and Steve Thompson, taking chances is nothing new. The couple opened their upscale indoor and outdoor furniture showroom in Santa Barbara’s less than fancy Funk Zone four years ago, and have steadily attracted customers with the

ir eclectic and appealing collection of home furnishings. The Thompsons’ talent lies in the mixing and matching of different styles of furniture for home and outdoor living spaces. Their showroom illustrates through ensemble vignettes how to combine and

mix different elements from a variety of floor coverings, fabrics, furniture, lighting elements and accessories. “We reset the showroom floor every five weeks, in hopes that each time you visit Cabana Home you will come away with a fresh experience and new ideas,” Steve told me.

Cabana Home’s outdoor living room area boast a collection of patio umbrellas, outdoor rugs, plant containers, fountains and pillows.  Just up the steps is the Thompsons’s intereior showroom, where the walls are alive with colorful works of art.

The current exhibition is the work of R. Nelson Parrish, a 29 year old Alaskan artist now living and working in Santa Barbara after completeing an MFA from UCSB.  Parrish’s work represents a new and expanded collaboration between the Thompsons and Edward Cella Art + Architecture.  ”We feel strongly about any artist represented by Edward Cella because he is so knowledgeable about emerging West Coast Artists.  We particularly have enjoyed getting to know Nelson because of the extraordinary detail and depth represented in his work and he is an all around great guy,” Caroline said.

Parrish is a former ski racer and now a surfer.  ”I am better when I am moving,” he says.  ”For me, fast is natural.  It’s calming.  For me,” he continues, “color is a language.  Color is the most natural and effective way to drive my thoughts home.”  Each piece represents an investment of time and sweat equity.  The process is a constant additive and reductive of layering, sanding, painting and polishing.  The end result is stunning.  The organic wood grain shapes and under-paintings meld fluidly with the contrasting, precise stripes.  The bold color seems to be contained only by the smooth, hand-polished mirror finish.  Cabana Home’s first one-man show, “From the Studio” runs now through June 24th.

According to Steve Thompson, “While the Art can stand alone and be intergrated into any decor, many people might be afraid to mix this medium with a more traditional setting.”  He believes Cabana Home and Parrish’s show might make them change their minds.

The opening reception was scheduled for the night of May 6th, but as ferocious sundowner winds fueled the Jesusitsa Fire, many attendees, such as myself, stayed away.  On Saturday morning, June 20th, Cabana Home will host an informal coffee with the artist from 10 AM to noon for those who missed out on the original evening event or would like to return for a second look and/or hear Parrish describe his technique and inspiration.

In the fall, Edward Cella Art + Architecture will present a solo exhibition of Parrish’s work in its new Los Angeles location.  For more information visit Cabana Home, 111 Santa Barbara Street (805.962.5900) or www.cabanahome.com

R. Nelson Parrish’s New Exhibition, From the Studio

Natural World and Man-Made Elements Collide in Wood and Fiberglass Art

Sunday, May 3, 2009
SHANNON SWITZER
On May 6, Santa Barbara artist R. Nelson Parrish, whose work has been featured in publications like Santa Barbara Magazine, will reveal his new exhibit to the public. From the Studio displays a collection of creations that stem from Parrish’s investigations of how the natural world and human-built environments collide and fuse.

A transplant from Alaska, Parrish has been immersed in the natural world from an early age. His art is influenced by the different degrees of wilderness he has experienced, from moose bedding down in his backyard during winters in Alaska to having to actively seek out interaction with nature while living in Southern California.

While obtaining his MFA from UCSB, Parrish developed an intense fascination with color. He began researching color theory and approaching color as a language of its own — a language that could transcend barriers. “When I was working with colors, I got the same feeling as when I would go ski racing, surfing, or driving fast,” Parrish explained. “My mind would get going a million miles a minute, but somehow it would also remain calm and peaceful. I wanted to translate these sensations, but traditional words were just an insufficient vehicle. Color, on the other hand, worked.”

Parrish now incorporates this color thrill in his work in the form of stripes. Every piece of his work has a unique pattern of colorful lines woven into the fiberglass. “When you put a racing stripe on something, it’s immediately faster,” he explained. “There’s a visceral reaction.” Parrish uses an intricate, labor-intensive fabrication process to achieve this effect. His works are crafted from native Alaskan wood and require the careful application of paints and numerous hand-rubbed coats of resin. Each finished piece represents months of work.

It’s also important to Parrish that his work has deeper resonance. “It’s got an underlying tongue and cheek to it,” he said. “Surprisingly enough, the wood I use is far more synthetic than the racing stripes I apply. The racing stripes are in their natural state, but the wood has been harvested, milled, and shaped into something unnatural.” Such layers of contradiction are what he wants people to walk away with after seeing his art. They symbolize the contrasts he sees in the world around him, such as when he’s surfing out at Rincon and sees dolphins breach 10 feet in front of him. “It makes me think, ‘There are wild animals right next to me; I’m on a board made of foam, floating between a speeding highway and oil platforms, but everything seems natural,’” Parish mused. “Our current landscape is filled with these dualities.” He strives to express that duality in every one of his creations.

Parrish’s work also contributes to the vocabulary of West Coast Minimalist art, contiunuing in the tradition of iconic artist John McCracken. Beginning in the 1960s, McCracken pioneered a new typology of artworks that were displayed off the wall and pared down to their elemental colors and forms, fabricated from high-gloss lacquer and fiberglass. With their acrylic and automotive enamels suspended within layers of colored translucent resins, Parrish’s works are a kind of remaking of McCracken’s minimalist objects.

Whether you come to analyze the theory behind his work or simply to enjoy the colors and aesthetics, Parrish encourages everyone to check out the exhibit. “In the end,” he said, “no matter which angle you are coming at it from, good art is pretty neat.”

4•1•1

From the Studio runs May 7-June 24 at Cabana Home, 111 Santa Barbara Street, in partnership with Edward Cella Art+Architecture. For more information, call 962-5900

Full Article at:

http://www.independent.com/news/2009/may/03/r-nelson-parrishs-new-exhibition-studio/

“‘I’m best when I’m moving,’ says R. Nelson Parrish of his peak creative mode, though he may as well be talking about his art-on view May 7th through June 28th in ‘From the Studio,’ an Edward Cella Art +Architecture group show hosted at Cabana Home. Mixed-media pieces that sample the dynamic colors and forms from the worlds of surfing and snow sports, Parrish’s works (from $3000) are emblazoned with stripes that at once evoke Alaska Native iconography and the So Cal surf culture. The Fairbanks-born Santa Barbaran gravitated towards art in the mid 1990′s while at the University of Nevada-after an injury kept him from his first love: alpine ski racing. He went on to pursue an MFA at UCSB, studying color theory until a few weeks before he graduated in 2006. It was then that he had the epiphany to converge his Alaskan youth with action sports. His final show didn’t make history, but it’s style delighted gallerist Edward Cella, who signed Parrish then and there.” – D.J. Pallandino

I suppose one of the best compliments you can receive as an artist, is to be told that “you don’t fit in.” You can’t be grouped, categorized. If this is the case, R. Nelson Parrish of Fairbanks, Alaska must hear favorable remarks every day – this master of “calmingly fast, colorful and big” art has been creating a genre all his own with his work in sculpture, woodworking, fiberglass, photography, painting, video… the list goes on and on… and on! His work may be best summed up as “a synergetic reflection of the contemporary landscape,” which is fine with Parrish as long as he doesn’t have to stay loyal to any one of his materials. He is more interested in “creating a visual voice,” than anything else.

A graduate of the University of California, Santa Barbara (MFA) and University of Nevada, Reno (BFA), Parrish has an intriguing way of thinking when it comes to creating his pieces. He has to think outside the box – the average viewing life of a piece of art is 3-4 seconds. If you’re like Parrish (and are shooting for 10 seconds), you need to be locked into your work. He looks at it as if he’s “surfing the inside of a wave. When you are in the barrel, every thing is calm yet senses are heightened. The surroundings are tumultuous and heavy, but you are focused towards the end of the wave.”

His home state of Alaska also has a heavy of influence on his pieces, specifically the land itself. Just listen to how he describes this bit of Earth: “Metallic peach sunsets that last for hours, butted up against jagged glacier encrusted mountain blues with charred re-budding forest remains as foothills… Winter never becomes black; as the starlight bounces off of the slate gray snow. Full moons cast shadows as if daylight. When the Northern Lights come out to dance slow tango above, every time is sublime.”

Keep an eye for an R. Nelson Parrish solo show in the future, as well as the novel idea of a “mobile studio.” Moving from one area of the nation to another, focusing on crumbs of the American landscape weeks at a time to create art that is truly reflective of the terrain it came from. Nelson will also be hearing from me in the near future – he claims he can teach anybody how to do a standing backflip in 10 minutes (and what girl wouldn’t love a guy who can do that??). Learn more right now in the XXQ’s.

XXQs: R. Nelson Parrish

PensEyeView.com (PEV): Tell us about how you first got involved with art and was it always a natural fit for you?

R. Nelson Parrish (NP): It is hard to distinguish any particular moment when I decided to get involved with Art. It was just something I did. Art just seemed a better avenue to put a voice to my ideas. I am pretty tone def, and fumble with a piano. But when you put a camera or a paintbrush in my hand, it just made sense.

I would actually say it was not necessarily an easy fit. Dad took heaps of images, but more of a traditional documentary sense. Mom sewed heaps as well, but was pretty busy being a school teacher and raising kids. My family is pretty athletic and active in the outdoors. Taking the time to read or draw as opposed to going batting practice or fishing was slightly foreign. Becoming invested in art took quiet a few years.

PEV: Born in Fairbanks, Alaska, what kind of artistic styles were surrounding you that may have influenced your style?

NP: The obvious influence would be Alaskan Native Art, as its prevalence was abound. There is also a famous local painter by the name of David Moffet. He was the first person that I saw that put a “style” or interpretation to landscape representation. Outside of that, I would say that I was more influenced by the land than anything.

The view in Alaska is sea of vibrant color. The land is gripping with blues, greens, reds, browns; anything you can imagine. Metallic peach sunsets that last for hours, butted up against jagged glacier encrusted mountain blues with charred re-budding forest remains as foothills. Cool clear water rolls downstream to collect at glimmering silted river deltas. A chrome vein of oil on stilts bisects it all. In the fall, the tundra turns into the colors of a smithy’s forge. Winter never becomes black; as the starlight bounces off of the slate gray snow. Full moons cast shadows as if daylight. When the Northern Lights come out to dance slow tango above, every time is sublime.

PEV: Not many people tend to think of Alaska for its art. What are some misconceptions about your native state that you wish people would understand?

NP: That we do not live in Igloos. That has always been a pet peeve of mine.

Honestly, I think the biggest misconception about Alaska is that we are completely wild and there is a void of culture. That is simply not true. There is a rich history of Native Alaskan Art and Folklore. Coupled with the overlap of the Russian influence and the early days of the miners; there is exciting mixture.

Alaska gets the Fine Art as well. My Grandmother played violin in the Fairbanks Symphony. There is one of the finest glass blowing facilities in the country in Fairbanks. I think I was ten when my folks took my brothers and me to Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom of the Opera in Anchorage. The 400 mile drive was worth it. The audience was scattered with people in tuxedo’s and evening gowns sitting right next to others in Carharts and hoodies. Don’t forget Jewel grew up in Homer, AK, without running water.

For me, that is the beauty of growing up in Alaska. There is not much in the way of boundaries between high and low culture. I have a friend that is got his Masters at Goliard, and yet has no problem skinning a moose. My sister in law was an amazing ballerina before becoming a Denver Bronco’s Cheerleader. Now she is a lawyer and an amazing fisher woman back in Anchorage.

Alaska full of smart, motivated people, who do not mind getting their hands dirty. The state also requires a personal level of toughness. A similar level of tenacity needed to live in NYC or LA, just different. As opposed to dealing with taxi cabs and slugging out the 405, it’s plugging your car in at -20 F. The harshness of the elements is greater than most places. For most Alaskans, challenging those obstacles is the fun part.

I would venture to say that is the biggest misconception about Alaska. Most people cannot comprehend how living without cell phone coverage can be enjoyable. I say do not knock it until you try it.

PEV: What was your education brought you to (MFA) University of California, Santa Barbara and (BFA) University of Nevada, Reno. What were your earlier days like for you in college when you were just starting out?

NP: Again, somewhat difficult. Stereotypes exist; as there are certain re-occurring elements within certain community groups. I started college as a business student, on an athletic and academic scholarship. I began with a photography class and was not exactly immediately accepted. Something about liking to go running as opposed to smoking cigarettes did not mesh. Through the convincing of some of the Art faculty at UNR, I eventually tacked on my BFA, with a focus on black and white photography, with my BS.

PEV: What drove you sculpture over other genres?

NP: Currently, sculpture seems to be the best vocabulary. The woodworking craft aspect is enjoyable, along with forming and polishing the fiberglass. But, I would not consider myself a sculptor. I am constantly moving between photography, painting, video, and sculpture. Using the mediums keeps things sharp, as I am more interested in creating a visual voice as opposed to being wedded to the materials. Categories leave little room for maneuvering.PEV: Tell us about your workspace. What would we find if we walked into your studio right now?

NP: Right now, things are in transition. I have a spare room in the house where I do most of the painting and sketching. The odor is that of fresh cut wood, as there are several large canvases and planks waiting in the queue. Typically the walls are covered with line sketches, photographs, magazine clippings and color swatches. There may be the occasional hub cap and a surf board as well.

Because of the toxicity, all of the fiber glassing and polishing is done outside in a borrowed horse trailer. The trailer is black and sits behind the house in trees. It is a great thing that my neighbors are extremely nice. Sometimes I will be using the giant sanding wheel with the floodlights on at 1 a.m.

PEV: When you sit down work, what kind of “mind set” do you surround yourself in?

NP: Really depends. Unless I am editing photographs on the computer, I rarely am sitting. Music is a good thing. Probably the best way to describe the mindset would be surfing the inside of a wave. When you are in the barrel, every thing is calm yet senses are heightened. The surroundings are tumultuous and heavy, but you are focused towards the end of the wave. Some say it is the closest to time traveling one could experience: you are move forward in sync with your immediate surroundings. In essence, it feels as if you have stayed in the same place but time has passed. That is a curious way of thinking.

Most of the time I am thinking about that “wow” factor. How can I push, surprise and unexpectedly excite the audience? The average viewing life of a piece of art work is 3, maybe 4 seconds. I am shooting for ten. I want to keep the viewer in the same place, but move them, as time ticks along.

PEV: What is your take on today’s modern art scene? The good and the bad?

NP: I think the best part of the modern art scene is there is a multitude of variety. Most contemporary artists work within a multiplicity of mediums. Where as prior, most artists stuck to a particular craft. That makes for exciting times as possibilities are almost endless.

The bad part of contemporary Art is that artists as a whole are disenfranchised. By nature, artists are typically individualistic, though in the past there were schools of thought in which artists would subscribe. Currently, there is no one group or movement that is dominating and kicking ass.

PEV: If you could sit down with any artist, living or deceased, who would it be and why?

NP: That is a tough one. I would probably want to talk to Donald Judd as he has passed on. He is the founder of Minimalism. Judd is the only Artist that managed to purchase almost an entire town for art making: Marfa, Texas.

Other than that, a sit down with Jeff Koons or Takashi Murakami. Those guys are great.

PEV: What kind of music are you into now?

NP: As usual, I am all over the place. Amy Winehouse’s latest album has a great throwback feel and is soulfully blunt. Brad Pasely has some pretty good sounds as well. Kanye West’s newest is okay, but unfortunately, nothing in the rap or Hip Hop has been really sensational. I just revisited old Snoop, Pac, and WuTang albums. The Grey Album is a re-occurring favorite. Bret Dennen has a poignant way stringing lyrics together. My taste in music has always been eclectic.

PEV: Is there an up and coming artist that you think we should all be looking out for?

NP: I would have said Mike Goodwin, but he recently told me “He is breaking up with Art.” Eric Beltz is doing some amazing draftsmanship right now. Jessica Halonen, Chandra Bocci, and Ryan Chamberlain are some Artists to look out for as well.

PEV: How have your friends and family reacted to your career?

NP: The reaction has definitely been a mixed bag. Some are excited to seem me try an alternate career path, others are still wondering when I am going to get a “real job”.

I think the funniest thing about all of it is when you have an exhibit, people often balk at the asking price. They think it is a little steep. It may be, but for how may hours one puts in, I would be making better wages at the In’N’Out Burger as a shift manager.

PEV: Tell us about the first time you saw one of your works hanging on the walls of a show?

NP: It was scarier than hell. Every time you put your work up, you are opening up your soul up for public criticism. But, if it was not nerve racking, you are not invested in the work.

Of course, over time, you get used to it; even though the feeling never truly goes away. I am sure any athlete, actor, musician, doctor, lawyer; any one who’s profession is a “practice”, can relate. In this game, there is not the luxury of mistakes.

PEV: What’s something we’d be surprised to hear about R. Nelson Parrish?

NP: I can teach anybody to do a standing back flip in about ten minutes.

PEV: When you aren’t working, what can we find you doing in your spare time?

NP: I do not have spare time. I am either working, thinking about working, or working on thinking about working.

PEV: Your work has been called, “a synergetic reflection of the contemporary landscape.” How would you describe your style?

NP: Well, that description pretty much nailed it on the head. There is a lot to take in with my work: wood, racing stripes, fiberglass, resins, totem pole-esque surfboardish monoliths, with horizons of car culture and Minimalism. That is just the aesthetic; wait until you touch one trying to pick it up. Maybe sum it up as “calmingly fast, colorful and big.”

PEV: What advice can you offer to an artist who is debating whether or not to pursue a career in art?

NP: In order to motivate, I remind myself I have a better chance of playing in the NBA than making it in as an Artist while still alive. That makes me work twice as hard, as I love disproving non-believers. I suggest newcomers do the same.

PEV: What one word, best describes you?

NP: Challenging: both as a verb and an adjective.

PEV: Where do you think you’ll be in twenty years?

NP: The Guggenheim. Switzerland. Alaska. Outside of those three places: no clue.

PEV: So, what is next for R. Nelson Parrish?

NP: Short term: making more work. I am trying to get together a collection for a potential solo show in the fall and that takes a heap of time. Unfortunately, the work does not paint itself. But if it did, that would take all the love out of it.

As a side note, I would like to travel the country with a mobile studio. The idea would be to stay in one location for two to three weeks and make a piece, investigating how the American landscape effects and influences the work. I have a feeling making work in NYC is a bit different than Marfa, Texas and I want to find out. Tentatively, I am dubbing it ‘The Highway Project”, as I would be moving by car. Think Robert Frank, Jack Kerouac, Mark Rothko, John McCracken and Jay-Z stuffed into an Airstream and asked to make work while looking out the windows. The grant proposals are currently in the writing stages.

For more information on R. Nelson Parrish, check out www.RNelsonParrish.com

“R. Nelson Parrish’s 8-foot-tall untitled sculpture leans against the wall like a ladder, its sleek, fiberglass and resin coated surface recalling surfboards and John McCracken’s planks from the 1960′s. Candy-colored band, both translucent and opaque, cut horizontally across the vertical work, setting up jaunty visual rhythms that cause the eye to rebound, rather swiftly, back and forth, as you scan the stripes from to to bottom and back again. Parrish has left about half of the mass produced-board’s surface visible, suggesting that the cheap material – the lumber yard equivalent of baloney – has its own scrappy beauty, and that recycled stuff can be as elegant as anything else.”