Kevin Sparkowich is an artist with a predominant focus on oil paint. He began painting while serving in the US Marine Corps, after years of experimenting in other mediums. While resisting an adherence to any one theme, he aspires to blur the lines between the conceptual and the perceptual. Kevin refers to this practice as “Broken Realism.”

Sparkowich currently studies and resides in New York City.

Interview by Interlocutor Magazine

What is your background in the arts? Were you creating artworks from a young age, and did you eventually pursue any formal training, or are you primarily self-taught?

I’ve always struggled with the question of when things started; it’s a good question. I think we all create artworks from a young age. As children, we scribble. We draw. We color. It’s a voice we refine alongside our verbal ones. Of course, some of us outgrow it for whatever reason, be it a loss of interest, or a realization that this method of communication does not always reliably translate to a lucrative career. Maybe I’m a romantic, but I think we all start out as artists, so the question becomes: why haven’t I stopped? God knows. The power to translate experience onto a two-dimensional plane has excited me since before I could describe it, and that excitement has only intensified with time. Making art gets me so high it hardly feels legal.

I am currently pursuing a BFA at Parsons School of Design, but technically speaking my painting practice is completely self-taught. I am grateful to be able to attend art school, but it has not taught me how to paint. Instead, it has supplemented my practice by informing me about my place in art history, culture, and philosophy — things which I knew nothing about prior to attending school.

After years of experimenting with other mediums, you began painting while in the US Marine Corps. What were the mediums you were working in before, and why do you think you started to focus on painting while in the military?

As a kid I worked with whatever was in my mom’s kitchen stash: pencils, pens, crayons, colored pencils, sharpies and whatnot. I was obsessed with drawing classic cars, guitars, and whatever interested me at the time. One day a teacher in grade school introduced me to the charcoal pencil. My mind was boggled. I was always dissatisfied with the level of darkness achievable with graphite pencils. I would press so hard into the paper trying to make it black, always to my dismay. Charcoal was what I needed.

Later, as a young skateboarder, I discovered graffiti and was totally enthralled. Luckily, there is overlap between writing (graffiti) and skating, and I met a few older guys that would teach me what they knew about spray paint. Graffiti stole my heart. Now my marks could be seen by anyone who passed by, all without acceptance into a gallery or paying for advertising. I could work as large as I could physically reach; no more confinement to an 8.5 x 11 inch piece of printer paper. What power! The drawback was that graffiti got me into some trouble. I soon joined the Marine Corps and continued to draw whenever I could. At some point I realized I wanted to be a “serious” artist and oil painting to me was the pinnacle of fine art.

This whole idea that there was some hierarchy of what constituted serious art is silly to me now (especially considering my last series I made, Rock’em Sock’em Robots 69…hardly seems serious to me). Whatever windows I had between training exercises I would spend in my barracks room practicing painting and googling what I was doing wrong. I’ve experimented with so many mediums, from graffiti, to tattooing, to ballpoint drawings — you name it. Something about oil paint has kept me true.

In what ways do you think your time in the service thematically influenced your artistic endeavors? What were some challenges with pursuing creative work while also being on active duty? Were you serving with many others who were also creating artworks?

I often ask myself the same question. In some ways it feels like I’m throwing away my military experience by not explicitly painting about it. Maybe someday I will. As for now it’s hard for me to see its influence on my paintings, but I know it’s there. I suppose the Marines gave me permission to pursue dark things and impose dark humor in what I do.

The challenges of being an aspiring artist in the Marine Corps were many. The arts and the Marine Corps don’t seamlessly coincide, and I was pretty insecure about that. However, the support I received from others was both overwhelming and unexpected. Time management was also a challenge. Since my windows of opportunity for creative work were short, I had to be ready. This usually meant daydreaming about what I would make once returning to civilization. Of course, this presented problems, as my job required me to be completely focused. During this time, the making-of-art was somewhat of a guilty pleasure, but a pleasure, nonetheless.

In the Marines, artists weren’t all over the place like here in New York, but there were a few others. Hayden Shelden is a great artist and friend of mine. She makes these fantastic yarn paintings, where she uses the material like she would paint. My other colleague, VanReaux, is a talented rapper/musical artist. I’m sure there were other closeted artists at that time.

On your website, you state that you resist adherence to any one theme and that you aspire to “blur the lines between the conceptual and the perceptual.” You refer to this practice as “Broken Realism.” Could you elaborate a little more on what this approach means to you, along with the specific ways that you attempt to render this approach in your work?

Both abstraction and realism have always fought for my heart, but realism usually takes the upper hand. But what’s to say I can’t paint about abstract ideas by using faithful, representational approaches? That’s what I aspire to do. I never took interest in painting flowers and natural landscapes and what have you, but I am so inspired by the techniques with which such things were painted by artists who preceded me. I think it’d be foolish for me to throw out the centuries of knowledge accumulated and passed down by painters like Anders Zorn, John Singer Sargent, or the late Richard Schmid. On the other hand, I so appreciate the originality and no-holds-barred approach of the abstract expressionists. I like to convey larger concepts by relying on my literal perceptions of the visual field to render them.

You currently have an oil painting series called P L A S T I C which focuses on the corruption of innocence. These paintings depict familiar children’s toys juxtaposed with teen or adult items placed into unsettling or perilous environments. What was the impetus for this series, and who are some other artists who have been an influence on you with this series?

It started with “Algorithmic Beauty” – a painting of a Barbie doll being constricted by a phone charger. That painting was the impetus for the series. After painting it, I moved on to other subject matter and one day while struggling to find a direction, I realized the experiences that could be expressed with children’s toys. There wasn’t really direct influence from other artists. I hadn’t seen anything like it before and for that I felt strange and self-conscious. It was weird shopping around for Barbies along with alcohol containers, French fries, and counterfeit bills, but it was a ton of fun.

“Mortality” - Oil painting on canvas, 16x22 in

The works in P L A S T I C have a strong sense of photorealism. What is your process for creating these works – are you working off of photographs you have made of the arrangements, or do you paint directly from setups you've created in your studio?

I worked from photographs I made of the arrangements. This decision was mostly due to the small size of the objects. In order to get the compositions I desired at that scale, it helped to use lenses with focal lengths that did not mirror the human eye. Photographic reference was especially crucial for the painting “Monday,” since I was in a guarded, abandoned psychiatric facility, and I had to get out of there pretty quickly. Not to mention, it’d be pretty hard to carry all my painting gear through the window of the place.

You also have done several grayscale works on paper. Do you view these works as thematically connected like your P L A S T I C series, or do they work more as standalone pieces?

I think they each stand alone. Charcoal gives me the chance to explore ideas without having to stretch a canvas and use expensive materials. Some charcoals eventually become oil paintings.

In what ways do you think your work has evolved over time, and are you currently planning on or working on any new series or in any mediums that are new to you?

I think my paintings have become more experimental, and I like that. I’m pushing the medium farther and stepping out of my comfort zone with the subject matter I explore. Currently I have two projects I’m bouncing between, each keeping me from getting burnt out from the other. One involves interiors of abandoned buildings. I like to think of these spaces as metaphors for the mind and its complexities. The other project has me stretching these giant canvases and painting experimental portraits with a ton of paint. Time will tell if they become their own series, but that’s what I’m up to for now. Painting has me exploring all sorts of things I never thought I would, and God knows where it’ll take me next, but I do know this: nothing is safe from my brushes.