Chaotic Good, with neal t. walsh
neal t. walsh is a painter, activist, and collector of things who serves as Gallery Director at AS220. This Thursday, August 15, 2024, neal has a solo show, Our Days are Weatherworn, on view at Galerie le Domaine, which is a quick hop over the Henderson bridge. In advance, we had a chat with neal about his life and practice. Photo by Violetta DiChiera-Walsh.
The Well (TW): Hey neal. On the invite for your upcoming show, your full name is in lowercase. Is that a show-specific design choice, or a kind of bell hooks thing?
ntw: Yes, that is inspired by my reading of bell hooks; wanting to background the individual in order to focus on what is being created. Also, I think of my paintings as fragments of a larger form that is never fully revealed. The titles of my paintings are often all lowercase because they are phrases from a longer story still being told. I think that, as people, we go through the same process; always changing throughout our lives, always becoming new, and are never fully formed into a single identity.
TW: How would you describe your identity, today?.
ntw: I’m a bricoleur, bibliophile, and a brambler. A slow walker with pockets full of stones, shells, and knickknacks, worrying away at thoughts and ideas like the sea against the shore. I was born and raised in Rhode island, spent over 20 years living in Providence, and now live in rural R.I.
TW: You have some fairly minimal works that call to mind like Agnes Martin, Robert Ryman...then others that are much more distressed or, "burned...with a torch, and then chipped, scratched, and cut at the surface" (Greg Cook, Phoenix, 2008). Are these all coming from the same place? What are the key themes you're exploring?
ntw: I have always been fascinated by minimalist works. I would add to the list early Brice Marden and Blinky Palermo. But minimalism as a whole, as an art movement, always felt a bit too cold. I want my paintings to be poetic and emotionally evocative. I am also a ham-fisted materialist, piling on layers of paint, gesso, dry pigment, graphite, ash, collaging bits of paper, canvas, scraps of detritus onto my paintings to see what emerges. Sometimes that means minimal, subtle layering of paints and sometimes a much more layered visceral approach. Sometimes a painting can embody both of those things at the same time.
Above: walsh’s 2008 painting, Greenheart, oil on canvas, 84” x 60”
TW: Your materialism…there’s some Anselm Kiefer in there.
ntw: Anselm Kiefer was a revelation to me as a young artist when I was developing my own aesthetic. The very first art books I bought were with my last bit of money on the last day of a trip to London. They were large monographs on Anslem Kiefer and Frank Auerbach. Kiefer’s use of diverse materials, his approach to difficult historical topics, a touch of mysticism, and lines of poetry embedded in the paintings, inspired all the different threads that I began exploring in my paintings. His enormous lead books and vitrines of objects still hold me in awe. I made a lot of early works imitating his style and techniques: experimenting with rolls of flashing lead, photo transfers, tar, ash, and using blow torches and dirt. Most of these early works were failures, but I continue to incorporate many of those elements into my evolving practice.
TW: How about things other than paintings—recent books, texts?
ntw: Solenoid by Mircea Cărtărescu (NYT), Selected Poems 1975-2021 by Don Domanski, and The Annual Banquet of the Gravediggers' Guild Mathias Énard. Also, The 95 Theses on Painting by Mary Zuckerman-Hartung.
TW: Your earlier works feel a bit more monumental, but it looks like the current batch is around 8” x 10” or smaller. How do you think about scale when working?
ntw: I used to make really large paintings: 6’ x 6’, 5’ x 7’, 4’ x 4’. At that time I had a bigger studio space and was grappling with the legacy of abstract expressionist painters I admired and the desire to create works that had a physical presence. Now I am a bit more practical. Large paintings are hard to move and sell. My current studio is in my house and the ceiling is low, so I have scaled the work to fit the space. The transition was hard at first, but now I enjoy being able to hold a painting in my hand and manipulate it as I apply paint to the surface. Sometimes I like to make paintings that fit in my pocket. So, many new possibilities opened up. Now I am thinking about applying what I have learned about working small and scaling that back into larger paintings.
TW: While it’s pretty abstract, your work has a documentary feel to it; recording textures and process. Is there anything to that?
ntw: One of my earliest memories, as a toddler, is playing on the carpet in my grandparents living room with the morning sunbeams streaming in from the dining room and watching all these motes of dust floating and swirling through the light and being mesmerized by how beautiful it seemed. I think that sense of awe, vastness, simplicity, and warmth is what I am still seeking in my creative work.
Above: young neal t. walsh ponders his relationship to spacetime
TW: Have you explored light as a medium?
ntw: I have not experimented with light as a medium beyond making cyanotypes. I live in a rural area and love using the sun to expose images onto various surfaces. Light is so ephemeral, we can experience a particular slant of sunlight only once. I think the light I am chasing is not a physical light, but rather the essence and feeling of light—of that experience.
TW: This kid who was watching dust dance; tell us a bit more about them. About growing up.
ntw: I grew up in suburban Cranston in the 70's & 80's surrounded by a close extended catholic family. The rhythm of the year was governed by the public school calendar and the Church calendar. Hanging out at the mall and roller rink, long summer days at the beach until lobster red, cold war anxiety, Boy Scout camping adventures that always seemed to fall on weekends with rain or arctic temperatures, unsupervised wanderings in suburbia exploring building sites, creeks, and other feral in-between spaces slowing becoming paved and built over.
TW: You’re now yourself the parent of a teen. How’s that impacted your work?
ntw: Having a child changes your life in ways that are unpredictable and unexpected; there is no denying that my daughter’s birth impacted my studio practice. When my daughter was born, we still lived in Providence and my studio was in the garage behind our house. She would come out and visit with my wife but at the time, it was not very clean or safe for a small child. I developed safer practices when we moved into the house. She grew up coming to the studio and we would often paint together or talk about art and what I was making. Violetta is 16 now and has her own interests but she still loves spending time in the studio and talking about the paintings I am working on, or artists and museums that we have recently visited or read about.
I also recently got back involved in a childhood hobby, Dungeons & Dragons. I started running a game for my daughter and her friends during covid. I then fell into the DIY / indy role playing game scene and it is very similar to indy art & music scene, even overlapping in some ways particularly in regards to the creative and collaborative world building that happens. How it will inform my studio practice is yet to be seen.
TW: As someone who has the day-job of curating and installing art shows, you’re being a Dungeon Master (DM) feels pretty on brand.
ntw: I was the DM for the The Wandering Wafflers; my daughter & her friends adventuring group, for about a year and half. They all used to go to school together but then some moved, some switched schools, interests changed and everyone's schedule became full and hard to coordinate times to play. I recently ran a session of Cairn, a rules light and easy game, in person with a former Waffler, my daughter, and a friend. It was everyone's first time playing and we had a great time!
Above: Two more recent works by walsh. Left: moss glow, 2021, oil on canvas on found wood, 7.5” x 4.25” x 1.75. Right: sinecure, 20222, oil, gold leaf, graphite, cut canvas, on wood, 5.25” x 9”
TW: D&D involves imagined travel but, what about real life travel? Any memorable trips that have meant something to you?
ntw: I have traveled to Europe twice: London and Paris in 1998, and Italy in 2015. London and Paris was a beautiful and melancholic trip, the last kiss of a long romance coming to an end. I returned and vowed to focus on painting and committing to being an artist. The trip to Italy was a family affair. My father-in-law, at 80, retired from running the opera company he founded, Michigan Opera Theater in Detroit, (now Detroit Opera) and decided on a family trip to Rome and his parent's birthplace in Calabria. The trip was all planned and arranged for and I just surrendered to the sights, sounds, and sensation of Italy. Italy taught me how to embrace a certain slowness and pleasure in small moments, taking time to enjoy small daily routines.
TW: What are your small moments and routines?
ntw: I do yoga at home 4-5 times a week when I can. I walk a lot with the dog. Eat mostly vegetarian. Try to go hiking as often as I can. I used to have a membership to the Eastside YMCA, mostly because they have a pool, and I really want to become a better swimmer. I am thinking about getting that going again in the fall. I have the vague aspiration to hike the length of Vermont's Long Trail in the Green Mountains, in stages.
TW: Cool trail! This reminds us that up top, you mentioned having moved to rural R.I. Where is rural and, give us a sense of life there.
ntw: In 2013 my family and I moved out to Foster, Rhode Island to live a bit closer to nature. I began what was dubbed by my skeptical wife, "the neal t walsh memorial natural history collection" and began dragging home all sorts of bones, mosses, stones, feathers, and bark samples. At some point some wasps had built a nest on the side of our house. One rainy, blustery, cold day in the late autumn/ early winter I climbed out on the roof to carefully remove the wasp nest and add to my collection.
TW: This doesn’t sound like it’s going to end well.
ntw: As I was pulling and prying on the wasp nest I realized that it was very warm to the touch, warmer than a miserable cold wet day. I thought that was odd, but the nest pulled away and I had the sudden flash insight that the bit of research I read that wasp abandon their nests in winter, was in fact not true. As the nest came free into my hands, I immediately tossed it to the ground below and climbed back through the window. I grabbed a garbage bag and went out and tentatively approached the nest, no wasps had emerged as far as I could see, so I quickly scooped it up and put it into the garbage bag. I then proceeded to bring the garbage bag with the wasp nest into the house and placed it into the freezer and placed a warning sign on the refrigerator to not open the freezer.
Above: Selections from the neal t walsh memorial natural history collection
TW: And you just left it there?
ntw: A few months go by and spring has begun. I removed the wasp nest in the garbage from the freezer and moved it into my closet in my studio. My sister-in-law and nephew were visiting for my daughter's birthday in April. The winter was very long with a couple of March snow storms and the spring was slow to emerge. April was still wet and chilly but warming. At one point during the visit I was in my studio and noticed a wasp crawling around on the floor. And another. And another. Further examination revealed that there were quite a few wasps crawling out under the closet door. Where the wasp nest was. I open the windows in the studio. I close the door to the studio and make sure there is no gap at the bottom of the door and wait. After a couple of days of checking in and shooing out wasps, (on another day no one is home), I open the closet door and gingerly pick up the garbage bag with the wasp nest still inside and take it out and leave it behind the potting shed. I later in the summer recovered the remains of the nest and still have bits of it.
TW: neal, you really know how to live. In the “neal t walsh memorial natural history collection,” what are your favorite objects?
ntw: This summer I recovered the skull of the old snapping turtle that lived in the pond across the road from our house. The snapping turtle had died at the very edge of a weedy area of the pond, mostly submerged with its neck fully extended. I would check in on the process of decay, and it was fascinating to watch. The shell flaked apart and all sorts of pond creatures feasted on the flesh until mostly bones remained. I’d like to think the turtle died of old age. It is important to note that the neal t walsh memorial natural history collection is ever fluctuating. After a brief stay in the collection, many organic objects are released back into their natural environment to carry on with their natural life cycle.
TW: We also heard you’re a master gardener?
ntw: Garlic. I grow garlic.
TW: Hah. Well, besides the garlic work, you’ve been an active member of the art scene here for over two decades. In a city with an up-and-down economy, how have you made it work?
ntw: My creative practice does not pay the bills. I have been working at an arts nonprofit [AS220] for the last 20+ years and it provides some stability and family health insurance. We have been privileged to have family support and left with a modest inheritance that gives us a cushion of support and the possibility of a future retirement.
TW: AS220 has always aspired to be a place that platforms radical and progressive ideas. It sometimes lives up to that, sometimes exceeds expectations and, maybe sometimes falls short. But we’re curious about how these ideas show up in your own work—if at all?
ntw: While my studio practice is not directly linked to activism or social causes, activism is very much a part of my life. I have been involved in a number of projects over the years, including an anarchist collective working on legal fee fundraising and anti-globalization protests that turned to anti -war protests in the post 9/11 world. I was an early member /volunteer at Urban Greens when it was just a buying club working out of White Electric coffee shop, then the Dirt Palace, and then the WBNA. I co-founded Recycle-A-Bike with Mary Blue in 2001, and I served on the American Friends Service Committee in Southern New England. During most of this time I worked at AS220 as the Gallery Director, providing resources and opportunities to RI artists. I think it is a radical act to make art, to live a creative life, and imagine new relationships and ways of being. I am humbled by the amount of amazing and creative people I meet in Rhode Island and it reaffirms my belief that every person should have the chance to pursue a creative life.
Above: walsh’s studio, January 17, 2015
TW: Before AS220 you were involved with another curatorial project, Apt. 3. This was the early 2000s? What was that all about?
ntw: Apt. 3 was a collaborative pop-up exhibition space in an unfinished 3rd floor apartment in the West End of Providence. Our first show was The Drawing Show, and we had an open call, inviting everyone we knew to submit work. We essentially wallpapered the entire apartment with drawings. The opening had a huge turnout and most amazing was watching people slowly take their time to look through every room and at every drawing. People were excited to share and see artwork by their peers and neighbors. Similar to today, there were so few gallery spaces or exhibition opportunities in Providence and people were eager to see new work. Apt. 3 only lasted a summer. We went on to do a couple more exhibits, but a disagreement with the landlord led to us losing access to the space.
TW: Classic. We highly recommend the “Apartment Show” model to all aspiring curators. Looking back across this near 25-year career, what do you think your best work’s been?
ntw: hmmm. Not sure but, I was invited to join the board of the Providence Biennial for Contemporary Art in January of 2023 and was involved in the launch of their curatorial mentoring program that culminated in the large scale exhibition Curating Commemoration: Poiesis / Remedy at WaterFire Arts Center. I had the opportunity to work with rising curators Melaine Ferdinand-King and Joel Rosario Tapia to realize their unique curatorial visions into a singular exhibit featuring over 50 artists and collectives. The exhibition was a great success and the opening a joyful celebration. This was the largest exhibition I had ever worked on with lots of logistics and challenges. I learned a great deal from the experience, expanded my knowledge of the local art community, and am feeling more grounded in the work I do at AS220 and as an artist.
TW: What’s coming up?
ntw: Other than constantly fretting about my daughter spending four months studying in France, this Spring and Summer I’m going to try to do some pop-up or, long weekend art shows out in Foster.
TW: What do you hope for Providence?
ntw: I would like to see Providence, and the state of Rhode Island, invest more in public schools, civic infrastructure, art & culture, and affordable housing. The city prides itself on being a creative destination and place to live, but to keep Providence’s unique, vibrant, cultural mosaic requires real sustainable investments in communities, neighborhoods, and institutions. These investments must be guided and informed by the people that live here.
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neal t. walsh’s Our Days are Weatherworn opens at Galerie le Domaine this Thursday, August 15, 2024. The reception is from 5:30–7:00 PM.
