KEVIN CHRISTY
Installation view of Memories Are Weapons - courtesy of The Hole NYC
Kevin Christy is a Los Angeles-based fine artist whose work has been exhibited at galleries in New York City, San Francisco, Los Angeles as well as Europe. Captivated by drawing from a young age, Christy refined his art practice at Pasadena Art Center College of Design. Christy is most well-known for his professional roles as an actor and stand-up comedian, two endeavors interwoven with his career as a young artist.
Christy’s work has been featured in publications such as The Atlantic, McSweeney’s, The New York Times, The New York Times Magazine, Nylon, and Stop Smiling Magazine. In addition to his media features, Christy has published an artist book under Cederteg Publishing titled Who’s Laughing Now. Most recently, the artist’s works have been exhibited at New Image Art Gallery in Los Angeles, CA, and he currently has a solo exhibition called Memories are Weapons up at The Hole NYC through March 28.
Interview by Mackenzie Aker
Hi Kevin! Your exhibition Memories are Weapons recently opened at The Hole in NYC, can you tell us a bit about it and where its title comes from?
It came from noticing the difference in accounts I have with people who had experienced the same thing. I noticed my memories differed wildly from my friends and family when it came to certain events so I started thinking a lot about how subjective our memories are. Calling them weapons is in reference to how our past influences our present. We use our memories all the time. Sometimes for good, sometimes for bad.
“Immeasurable Speed,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
You launched a participatory Instagram experience leading up to the show. Why did you take this approach?
I just like seeing if people have the same favorites as I do. I can’t change them at that point and I’m usually wrong. My favorites are usually not the most popular. I’m trying to please myself with them so it’s interesting to see if other people have the same reaction as I do. Social media is interesting but I can’t really take it seriously as something you should factor into making work. It’s far too random and out of your control.
“Inner/Outer,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
I’m interested in your aesthetic, where do you draw inspiration and how do you conceive of your imagery?
A lot of them are conceived when I’m walking or just about to fall asleep. When I’m in my neighborhood I’m always looking around and usually I’ll see something and then it bounces around and gets re-contextualized or added to until it fits into an image. I make a lot of lists and I look at as much stuff as I can. Books, magazines, catalogs, stickers, old movies, TV — all of it is useful to me.
“No Matter How High,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
There is definitely a surreal or ironic element to your paintings. How are these elements influenced by your history in comedy?
I think they live in the same space more than one influences the other. I gravitate toward images that are just a little off, or odd as far as where they land in context. Creating humor is really similar. You try to dig at the thing that’s off about a situation and point a light at it for a longer period of time than is considered normal.
“No Matter How Low,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
In what ways has your own memory eroded or changed over the course of the pandemic?
I think it’s eroded because the days are so repetitive and unremarkable. A week just turns into one long day. And it’s added a whole new category of memory of just normal interaction with people that I wouldn’t have bothered to remember if not quarantined. At this point shaking hands with a stranger feels like a long lost romantic idea from a bygone era. Eating indoors at any restaurant feels borderline decadent. Wistfully remembering getting lunch at the supermarket salad bar isn’t something I would have thought would be a reality in my life, but here we are.
“Squatters Rights,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
What do you think are the implications of memory’s malleability for the recording history?
It creates a need for increased investigation into all the parties involved in its retelling. Because it’s so subjective, you have to take into account all of the source’s agendas. You can’t just read it and believe it because someone wrote it or said it. And you can’t completely trust your own perception of a memory without looking at what you have to lose or gain. We know that people gravitate towards the facts that reinforce their own narrative, so if memory is part of the re-telling of history, its subjectivity can’t be discounted.
“Rumorverse,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
What about the implication of memory’s malleability on a personal level?
I think you have to consider how you’re using a memory as stimulus for your own behavior. Are you trying to improve upon a past event? Are you using it to discourage growth or someone else’s? What purpose a memory serves is as important as the memory itself. I know in my own life I’ve taken a memory and over time turned it into something it’s absolutely not. And it’s the malleability that makes that possible if you’re not careful.
“Sebastian,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
How does Memories are Weapons interact with or progress from your show last year, Second Smile?
Second Smile being a group show — and having just the one piece in it — really just made it a tiny piece of what I was starting to make work about. It’s a continuation really. I had started to think about memory as a subject and after that show, I just stayed in that headspace for the next six months or so.
“Veil,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
Can you tell us about your book, Who’s Laughing Now?
That one is quite a while back, so all I can tell you is I liked it. If my memory serves, the publisher picked all the images so there wasn’t any kind of connectivity other than I made them all. I like looking at that one though. It’s like a little time capsule. Old work always gives me a little bit of a smile. I think back to making those images and forgive a lot of the worries I had at the time.
“Slight Source,” 2020, Oil on canvas, 20 x 16 inches (51 x 40 cm)
Do you have any plans to publish another book? What's coming up in the near future for you?
I’m working on a little book that includes all the work from this show at the moment. It’ll have some other elements, but it’s mostly the work from this last year. Outside of that, I’m just back in the studio making new paintings and waiting for the world to figure out what the new normal is going to be. Should be pretty weird.
Memories are Weapons is up at The Hole NYC through March 28
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Mackenzie Aker is a Montreal-based writer who has worked as a curator, filmmaker and publishing editor. She holds a BFA in art history and film studies from Concordia University and her academic interests include museology, archaeology, and early documentary film. When not writing she spends her days reading in parks, drinking coffee, and listening to metal.
